Unknown Origin
by Hordepally
Summary: Sequel to "No Stranger". Goons, hideouts, dogs and the Joker. All part of Sam's life now. Lucky for her she's resilient. But when you trust the wrong people everything can go straight to hell. Joker, O/C, Drugs, Sex, Violence
1. Luck runs out

**A/N: **So, here we go. This is my sequel to "No Stranger".

**CHAPTER ONE**

_Luck runs out_

"911, what is your emergency?"

"Err yeah, there's a woman outside my house making noise. Talking to herself, yelling. I think she has a dog with her, a real big one. One of those Dob....."

"Your address?"

"1011 Montgomery Lane. This is a good neighborhood, or used to be. This city has gone to sh.....oh wait she's screaming now. Can you hear her over the phone? 'Alex' she's screaming. Okay, now she's sitting in the middle of the street. Get someone here quick. My wife is scared to death."

"Sir, are you inside?"

"Yeah. I ain't going out there. She's either on drugs or crazy...or both. Don't want to be a pussy but with everything that's happened in this city you can't be too careful."

"Staying inside is a good idea sir. I have police and paramedics en route. Go ahead and give me a description of the woman in case she runs away."

"Can't really tell. Too dark to be sure. Long hair in a ponytail. One of those green army jackets. Jeans. Christ can you hear her? She don't sound good. Just keeps yelling 'Alex' over and over. Ah....ah...ok yeah. She's got the dog in her lap. She might be hurt...I don't know. Just tell them to hurry."

"They're en route sir. Just stay inside."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

_"Ok honey. You're gonna be all right. You're okay."_

"No," she gasped. Even that one word was a struggle to get out. Each breath, each scream sent excruciating shards of pain through her body. But still she struggled. They had her now. She'd run and gotten lost and now they had her and now.......now....

"_Do you have any ID on you? We need to know who you are so we can notify someone."_

The paramedic's voice was soothing from years of dealing with the injured and distressed but it didn't work on her. If anything it made her fear deepen. She strained against the bonds, eyes rolling wildly.

"Let me go. Please. You. Don't. Know." The words seared her throat. It hurt so bad but they had to know they couldn't keep her. If he came for her, if he found her in this ambulance they'd all die. She was sure of it.

_"Shit, she's going into cardiac arrest. Get the defibs on her. Hurry!"_

Darkness oozed into her vision, gradually blotting out the paramedic's face. The pain began to recede and she managed a grateful sigh. She didn't notice the EMTs cutting her shirt off, didn't notice the looks on their faces when they saw the marks on her flesh. The darkness devoured all and she was falling, falling.

-----------------

_She wanders the back streets of Gotham, just another addict in a sea of them. In another time she had been somebody. People had known her, she'd been on the news, in the papers. Now she was a ghost. _

He_ was gone now, killed by his own designs. And when he had died she had been left to roam. All her fears had been realized after his death. She _hadn't_ been able to snap out of it, _hadn't_ been able to carry on. He'd made her weak in life and weaker still in death._

_And so here she was._

_The other junkies shied away from her, especially when she talked to _him_. They said she was crazy. They said she was _that_ woman, the one who had taken up with a psychotic terrorist. Samantha._

_But she wasn't that person anymore was she? No. _

_She makes her way to her favorite spot, an out of the way little alley that offered some privacy. To her relief it is unoccupied. Having company while she shot up ruined the ritual._

_It was funny really, how nothing had been right since he'd left. She'd never given herself time to think about things, instead jumping into the arms of heroin only days after his death. Snorting at first, then the needle beckoned. After that there was no looking back._

_She settles back, digs the syringe out of her coat pocket and pushes her sleeves up. As the needle's point hovers over her vein a hundred mocking thoughts flit through her head._

_'Heroin Sam? Really? My, you really are just like your Dad aren't you? Except weaker. All the years you fought and fought.....only to wind up like this.'_

_'I guess I didn't fight hard enough did I? Besides, I don't care anymore. Nothing is the same. I'm not the same.'_

_She injects herself, eyes rolling back into her head as the drug enters her system. This was the moment, the shining moment that made it all worthwhile. For a while she can forget the hunger, the sickness, the shame and loneliness. _

_When her eyes focus she sees beauty where before there had only been the lurid ugliness of the streets. It has begun to snow and she is reminded of a night long ago. Lying in the snow, bleeding out and not caring. A figure over her, beautiful and terrible._

_'I've given myself too much,' she thinks but is not bothered by that thought. Nothing is right anymore. Not since he went away._

_"You're dying Sam. Do you want to die?" A voice, low and mocking._

_She looks around to find the owner of the voice but there is no one around. Just her and the snow and the streetlight._

_"I...yes. I do," she whispers through cracked lips. "I can't anymore. Can't do this."_

_A hushed laugh, barely heard over the blood rushing through her head. "I know ya can't. Knew it all along. So come on."_

_"I can't see you. Where are you?" Her eyesight is going, blackness swallowing the night, the snow, the city. She tries to rise and stumbles to her knees. __A frigid wind whips at her hair, blowing snowflakes into her eyes. Her head lowers. The drugs are messing with her. No one around. Alone. She drops her head in despair._

_"Right here. Right in front of you. Look. Look at me."_

_She does, blinking tears away._

_And there he is. Silhouetted against the darkness, bloody lips curled in a smile, blacked-out eyes regarding her coldly._

_A shiver of adoration and horror goes through her and all she can think is 'He came back. He came back for me.'_

_"I said I would, didn't I? Hm? I _told_ ya Sam....I'll always be there. Always." He's reading her mind, like he always seemed to do in life._

_"Yes," she whispers thinly. "Yes. You did." _

_And he was a man of his word. Always had been._

_He extends a gloved hand to her. For a few seconds she stares at it, then raises her eyes to his. He is still smiling and the sight is the best thing she's seen since he died. No, nothing had been right since he left. Nothing._

_She takes his hand._

_---------------------------------------_

_"There we go. She's coming back. Hey honey, you're okay now. We're gonna take care of you. You're gonna be okay."_

Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused and bloodshot.

_"You're still alive. See the light? Alive."_

For a moment she felt relief, then the horror set back in and she began to scream, heedless to the pain it caused.

* * *

**A/N: **A lot of this was inspired by a song. "Don't fear the reaper" by Blue Oyster Cult. Anyway, I'll try to update as much as possible. Doubt I'll be as prolific as I used to be because I'm using someone else's computer.


	2. Dying dreams

**CHAPTER TWO**

_Dying dreams_

Gordon stood watching her through the observation window. It was her all right. Samantha. When she'd first been admitted to Arkham she'd been put down as a Jane Doe. Then an orderly had recognized her from the news and summoned Dr. Peloni from Level Three, who in turn had summoned him.

"Acute fear toxin poisoning," Dr. Peloni said from behind him. "And she was beaten rather badly. Two broken ribs, multiple cuts, bruises and marks to her face and body. She almost died in the ambulance. The toxin sent her into fear induced cardiac arrest."

"But the antidote worked, right?" Gordon didn't take his eyes off her still form. She'd been in Arkham for two days and had yet to awaken.

"Worked like a charm. Now all we have to do is wait for her to wake up. Then we'll see how well she is mentally. That's the problem Commissioner, she may be physically okay but her mind may be....changed. Crane's compound is insidious. It can destroy one's sanity, which is why the hospital sent her here in the first place. They aren't equipped to deal with fear toxin cases properly. We, however, are."

"I know," Gordon murmured. The truth was he was nervous about her being in Arkham. After what had happened with the Joker a few months ago this was the worst place she could be. "Hopefully she'll be able to tell us something about the Joker. I have to assume he's had her these past few months. If he has then maybe she....." He realized he was talking more to himself than to Dr. Peloni and stopped himself with a sigh.

"She's been gone over three months," Dr. Peloni said softly. "And she's still alive. Amazing really."

"Yes," Gordon answered, still staring at Samantha. "Yes it is. Didn't think she'd ever be seen again. I want to know the minute she wakes up. I don't care what time it is, call me."

"Of course Commissioner."

"A couple more things before I go."

"Yes?" The doctor looked up from Samantha's chart, eyes owlish behind thick glasses.

"I'm going to issue a guard for her. Just to be safe. Also, keep her identity as quiet as possible. I don't want this getting out....not just yet. The orderly that recognized her, do you think you could talk to him? Make sure he doesn't say anything?"

Dr. Peloni smiled. "If it means his job I'm sure I can persuade him."

Gordon grinned. "Good. Very good."

------------------------------------------

She opened her eyes and winced at the harsh flourescent light. For a moment she lay still, trying to shake the fog that filled her head.

Sterile white walls surrounded her. An IV was in her arm. She tried to sit up and her body screamed in protest. The hospital, that was it. She was in the hospital.

"But how'd I get here?" she muttered to herself. Her tongue felt like cotton, her bottom lip hurt. Hell, _everything_ hurt. She could barely even turn her head.

"Oh you're up. Wonderful!" a disembodied voice said.

"Who's there?" she whispered, eyes scanning the room. "Where are you?"

"I'm on the intercom. Give me a second and I'll be right in. Then we can talk." The voice was inordinately cheery....and familiar.

A door opened out of her line of sight and she could hear footsteps approaching her.

"Hello Samantha." A small elderly man with glasses and thinning gray hair walked to her bedside. "Glad to see you're okay. You gave us a scare."

For a moment she merely stared, dumbstruck. "Dr. Peloni?" she finally rasped.

"Yes! So glad you remember me. How do you..."

"Dr. Peloni from _Arkham_?"

"Well...yes."

Samantha struggled up, ignoring the discomfort. "Whoa, wait. Where am I exactly?"

The doctor looked uneasy. "You're in Arkham of course. Do you remember anything?"

"Uh....Arkham?"

"Yes."

She shot up, throwing one leg out of the bed. ""No," she hissed. "No. Why am I here? What the fuck happened?" Fear coursed through her in an icy wave and she crawled off the bed, nearly falling.

"Samantha calm down. You'll hurt yourself. You're hurt. Now lie back down." Dr. Peloni tried to guide her back to the bed but she pushed him away. The IV pulled out of her arm but she barely noticed.

"Why am I here?" she tried to scream but her voice was little more than a wheeze. She made her way to the door and rattled it desperately but it wouldn't open. "I can't be here and you know it!"

"You have to calm down Samantha. You're safe. You're in a secure wing with...."

"Oh, like _that's_ gonna help! You know what'll happen. _You know_. You were here the other time. What the hell's wrong with you? He'll come and he'll...he'll...." She wheeled around to face the doctor. He held a syringe in his hand and was watching her cautiously, as if he were afraid she might come after him. She ignored his reaction and continued to rant. "He'll come here to find me. And it won't be pleasant, not at all. Don't you understand that? Just tell me how I got here! I haven't done anything to be put in here!"

The door creaked open and two orderlies came in, each of them grabbing one of her arms. She didn't fight them, knew there was no use in it. She wanted to tell him that she couldn't be here, that he had to let her go but the words died in her mouth when he advanced on her with the needle.

"I'm so sorry," she heard him whisper as her knees went weak.

-----------------------------------

"I'm going to warn you now that she's not very happy about being here."

"Well who would be?" Gordon said with a wry smile. "Waking up in Arkham wouldn't thrill me either."

Dr. Peloni sighed and ran his hand through what little hair he had left. "She's sedated but fairly lucid. She's also very worried and confused. Dosen't seem to recall much. The toxin will do that. Time and certain....triggers can help that though."

Gordon watched her through the 1-way observation window built into the door. She was slumped on her bed, eyes fixed on the wall. "So can I talk to her right now?" he asked. This could be his chance to find the Joker. His only chance. God knew he wasn't having any luck. Not with Batman still laying low and budget cuts and rising mob crime whittling away at his Joker task force.

"I wouldn't recommend it. She gets agitated very easily and still doesn't recall much. Come back tomorrow if you like. Or I can call you."

Gordon exhaled in frustration but nodded. He'd waited this long, another day or so wouldn't make much of a difference. "Fine. I trust your judgement."

"Sorry to make you waste a trip down here but I knew you wanted me to notify you when she woke up."

"The trip wasn't wasted. I brought her guard with me. I'll introduce you before I leave."

Dr. Peloni narrowed his eyes skeptically. "With all due respect Commissioner....I do hope he's trustworthy. I don't want a repeat of......"

"He is," Gordon responded, a little more sharply than he intended. He fought the urge to tell the doctor that the crooked guards in the Arkham escape were solely the asylum's fault, not his. No use in pointing it out, tact and diplomacy were his best courses of action right now. As long as Samantha was in Arkham he had to stay on their good side. Besides, everyone had made mistakes regarding the Joker, himself included.

_'Several mistakes',_ he thought and winced inwardly.

Dr. Peloni regarded him for a few seconds, then shrugged. "Then I guess I'll have to trust _your_ judgement too Mr. Gordon."

---------------------------------

Samantha stared at the wall but didn't see it. All she'd done since she'd awakened was try to remember what had happened. Things were coming back. Dr. Peloni wanted to know what had happened to her. She didn't know and what little she did know she was not about to tell him.

Flashes. Of terror. Of unrelenting panic. Of a rage so intense she could scarcely believe she'd been capable of feeling it.

Alex snarling, bloody fangs bared in fury. A canister pointed at her face. A male voice, so filled with hate she shivered.

_"You think you're something else don't you? Well I'll show you. You're nothing. Gonna put the blocks to you girl, gonna take you down."_

The world going red and she was running, running. From what she didn't know.

Alex again, poor Alex, this time following her down the street. The ambulance. Everything going dark and the dream....the dying dream.

No, not a dream really. More like a vision. The embodiment of her worst fears, revealed to her. Jack dead. Her as a junkie dying alone in the snow. Unable to go on if he wasn't around. Weak.

"That was a lie," she whispered to herself. "Just the drug showing me things. I'm stronger than that. That was just...a....lie. I'm not dead, Jack isn't dead. All I have to do is get out of here before he comes and tears this place apart."

_Ah but wait...someone IS dead. Who is it? Oh yes....Eric. Jack promised you he wouldn't hurt him. Didn't he? Well, he lied. He also said he'd never let anything happen to you, that you'd always have a way out. Another lie. What happened to you in that house will screw you up forever. You don't remember all of it but you will. Oh you will. And when you do............_

"For fuck's sake STOP IT!" she snarled to herself and buried her face in her hands.

The intercom clicked on. "Everything okay in there?" A nurse's voice. Dr. Peloni had went home for the night.

She didn't answer.

* * *

**A/N: **Explanations will be coming soon, via flashbacks. Actually a good deal of this story will be a flashback so you'll get to see what happened and what the deal is with the Joker.

* * *


	3. Always something

**A/N: **A few different POVs in this one. I guess I was wrong about the updates not being as fast. I'll keep it up as long as I'm able. If anyone wants to talk (I get bored) you can usually get ahold of me on Yahoo or AIM IM at oc1971jn.

**CHAPTER THREE**

_Always something_

Harold and Jake stood in the living room of the newest hideout and stared. One of the Rottweilers lay dead in a far corner and there was blood pooled on the rotting hardwood floors. Glen was sprawled out in the middle of the room. At least they _thought_ it was Glen. He'd been dead a while and his face was bloated and purplish. Strewn around his body was a silver canister, a gas mask and a .357 revolver. Flies buzzed around the room, attracted by the smell of death.

They'd been on a job with the boss for the past week and come back to this mess. Glen had been working for the boss longer than any of them, had been around since the days when the Joker blew up Gotham General and brought down Commissioner Loeb. Glen had been an old-timer, one of the very few the boss had tolerated for any length of time.

And to make things worse the woman was gone. Harold had went upstairs to find her. Nothing. The second floor was eerily silent and still, as if no one had been there for some time.

"I think you better go tell the boss." Harold said quietly.

"Screw you! I'm not gonna tell him. _You_ do it." Jake's face was wet with perspiration and he looked like he might bolt out a window at any moment.

"Look, let's both go out there and tell him. 'Cause if he comes in and we're standing here with our thumbs up our asses then he'll off both of us for not saying anything. But if we go out there _before_ he comes in and tell him....."

"He'll off us anyway. Ever heard of shooting the messenger?" Jake interrupted. "I say we flip a coin."

"You've gotta be kidding me," Harold snorted, pulling his mask off. "Jake you're a pansy, you know that?"

"Why? Because I like being alive? Because I don't want to go outside and tell _him_ that Glen's dead and the woman is gone? If that makes me a pansy then......."

"There a problem guys?"

The hissing voice behind them made the two men freeze. Harold and Jake looked sideways at one another, eyes wide.

_'Gonna be one hell of a bad day,' _Harold thought to himself.

----------------------------------

Samantha's new room wasn't as bleak as he was expecting. Pale blue wallpaper hid the padded walls and the furniture was genuine wood. On closer inspection however Gordon could see the furniture was bolted down and had no sharp edges. A barred window looked out over Arkham's courtyard. All in all the room was a far cry from the stark Level Three cells below them.

"Hey Gordon."

She sat on the edge of her bed, amidst a pile of books and magazines. She was wearing jeans and a too-large gray sweatshirt that only accentuated her weight loss. There were dark circles under her eyes and she looked pale but she was smiling, obviously pleased to see him.

He settled down into a chair. "Hi Sam, how are you doing?"

"Been better," she glanced around the room and shrugged. "On the bright side I like this room a lot better than the other one."

"The doctor says you're recovering nicely."

"I am," she agreed. "Except for my memory. Still spotty, you know? Flashes of weird things, like pictures. And then......nothing. Like the past few months didn't happen."

Gordon nodded. He didn't believe her but wasn't ready to confront her just yet. He still needed to talk to her about her boyfriend, the Eric Cook guy. His decomposed body had been found a month ago in a wooded location. He'd been beaten on the head and face with a blunt object and then buried in a shallow grave. Cause of death was asphyxiation. He'd been buried alive. A Joker card had been safety pinned through his lip.

Gordon had no doubt the Joker had intentionally left Eric alive when he buried him.

"It'll come to you in time," he said, careful to keep his eyes on her face. The sweatshirt hung down loosely, exposing a few of the marks. Dr. Peloni had told him she had them on her back, chest and nape of her neck too. Bite marks, in various stages of healing. When he thought of how she might have gotten them he wanted to shudder.

"About that guard," Samantha said. "I'm not sure about him. I mean I appreciate you looking out for me but after what happened back in July I'm a little leery, you know?"

"Dominic? You don't have to worry about him. I've known him for years. He was in the military before he joined the police force. Believe me Sam, I didn't rush into the decision to bring him in. I was very careful. You'll just have to trust me when I tell you he's the best man for the job." He couldn't tell her that Dominic was his sister's son and that was his main reason for hiring him.

"Okay," she said, not looking convinced. "He seems like a nice enough guy. Hey, could I ask you a big favor?"

"Sure."

"Next time you come here could you bring me some smokes and something to eat? The food here sucks."

Gordon laughed. "I'll see what I can do Sam."

--------------------------

"Hey, uh, whatever your name is....I'm gonna need you to clean up in here. Get rid of _them_," The Joker motioned to the three bodies with his knife. "Take 'em out in the woods and bury 'em. The dog too."

Vance nodded, glad he was still wearing his mask so the boss couldn't see the look on his face. Dragging three bodies and a dog into the woods and burying them all alone was a lot of work. And the smell, Jesus. The living room reeked like a slaughterhouse.

"Well...what are you waiting for? Hm? Maid service? Get busy."

"Uh...ok. Sure." Vance grabbed the feet of the nearest corpse, Harold's, and began to drag him towards the back door.

When he was gone the Joker bent down and picked up the silver canister. For a moment he examined it, chewing the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. Then he looked over the rest of the stuff. Gas mask. The gun. It was her gun, with three live rounds still in the chamber. Sam wasn't around. Her guns were still there, her pills were still there. The switchblade was still next to her bed.

He toed Glen's body, humming idly to himself. Flies rose into the air, buzzing angrily.

"You sure got, uh, _messed_ up there didn't ya?" he whispered to the dead man. "Bite off more than you could chew?"

It was always something. Always. Now he'd have to find out where she went, if she was dead or alive.

"Can't rely on anyone these days," he muttered to himself. "Gotta babysit everyone, gotta watch 'em all. Always something, isn't it?"

---------------------------

It had been eight days since she'd awakened in Arkham and all she'd heard were questions.

_What happened? Where is he? Did he do this to you? Tell us everything you can think of. We're depending on you._

Of course she couldn't tell them everything so she claimed to not remember much. Gordon would come and visit her and with each visit she could see his frustration growing. The looks on his face told her all she needed to know. He saw how badly she'd been beaten, black eye, cut lip, broken ribs and he wondered how she could lie for _him_. And the bite marks......those were the worst. His eyes would creep over them with undisguised disgust and she could almost read his thoughts.

_'Brainwashed. Stockholm syndrome. He abused her, almost killed her and she won't say a thing against him.'_

She hated it, especially knowing he considered her a victim. But the truth was something he wouldn't be able to accept. The truth might keep her in Arkham forever. At the very least it would ensure she'd never be left alone. The cops and media would hound her forever. She'd be a freak. So she kept her mouth shut and waited. Waited to see if Jack would come. In a way she wanted him to, in another way she hoped what Glen had said about him was true.

She remembered everything now. All of it. The good. The bad. The downright fucking nightmarish.

When Gordon left she lay back on her bed and thought. Her mind went back to three months ago, to the beginning. Back then she'd thought she could stay with him and things would be okay. In retrospect it was stupid but she couldn't help herself. Not with him. She never could.

"Always something," she sighed.

* * *

**A/N: **Gordon and Sam just can't be straight with each other can they? And Arkham's food still sucks, lol. Next chapter will be a flashback.


	4. The good old days

**A/N: **This begins the flashback! Oh and thanks for your reviews!

**CHAPTER FOUR**

_The good old days_

She awoke to the sound of screams. At first she thought it was nothing but a dream and swore angrily.

_First mice in the walls keeping me up, now nightmares........._

No, there it was again. Coming from downstairs. She lay in the dark, listening.

_"I didn't mean to! I didn't! Please! I didn't meannnnnn......." _The disembodied male voice broke into another shriek that reached a tortured crescendo before falling silent. The noise disturbed the dogs outside and they began to bark furiously.

Samantha got out of bed, put some clothes on, and crept downstairs. Everything was quiet, the air thick and still in the dark house. For a moment she stood still, eyes straining to see through the gloom.

There. Light seeping underneath the door of a bedroom. She made her way to it, jumping as the decayed wooden floor popped underneath her feet. As she drew closer she could hear two male voices, one labored and terrified, the other low and rasping.

"I'm s...s...sorry," the frightened one sobbed.

"Oh shh shh shh, I know you are," the other one replied, amusement and false sympathy lacing his tone. "I know. But you're not sorry enough. Hm? Not yet. I'll fix that though. Yes I will." It was Jack, of course it was. Who else would be torturing someone at two in the morning?

A grating sound, oddly familiar.

"Nooooo?" the horror stricken plea of someone who has just realized he has no hope.

No response from Jack this time, just a mocking giggle and then a noise like a.....a.......

It hit her then and she clapped a hand over her mouth in horror. An electric carving knife, that's what it was. Her grandparents used to have one, they'd used it to carve the turkey at Thanksgiving and........

The frightened voice rose into yet another scream, this one going on and on in a hellish rhythm until finally stopping short. Then silence.

Against her better judgement Sam put her hand on the doorknob, twisted it. Locked.

"Whoever is out there better, um, find something else to do. And _fast_." Jack said from the other side of the door. She could hear him breathing hard from exertion. Or excitement.

Heart pounding, she went back to her room.

-----------------------------------

The next morning she came downstairs, keeping an eye out for Jack. He'd never come to her room after the electric knife incident, which was strange. One thing she could count on, when Jack was at the house he always came to visit her.

Two of his men were in the kitchen, Glen and another one too new for her to remember. They were sitting at the table drinking convenience store coffee and smoking. At the sight of her the new one looked at the floor. Glen glanced at her and nodded, then looked away. He might have been the closest thing Jack had to a right hand man but he knew better than to look at her too long.

"Got some for me?" Samantha pointed at their coffee and smiled brightly.

"Yeah, we got you some," the new guy mumbled. "On the counter." He was still staring at the floor and she shook her head in dismay. Jack had them petrified of her. If she'd wanted to have a conversation with any of his men (which she didn't) they'd probably take off running.

She lit a cigarette and took a long drink of the coffee. It tasted burnt and was getting cold but caffeine was caffeine.

"Sooo, you guys know where the uh.....boss is?" she asked, leaning easily against the counter.

"In his office," Glen said. "Far as I know anyway."

She nodded. Figured. He spent a lot of time there. In many ways Jack was a twisted version of a workaholic businessman, right down to his suit and the amount of office time he put in. The thought almost made her smile. Almost.

"Ok, thanks," she said and walked away. As she left she could feel the men's eyes on her and she knew they'd start talking about her as soon as they decided she was out of earshot. Sometimes she wondered what they said, then decided she was better off not knowing.

-------------------------------------

"So who is she anyway?" the new guy asked.

"His travelling companion," Glen snorted.

"Oh. So does he uh, you know?"

Glen rolled his eyes. "No I don't know. Does he _what_? Take her bowling? C'mon, be specific."

The new guy lowered his voice. "Does he screw her? Is that why she's here?"

"I don't think so. Hell I don't know, why don't you go ask him yourself?"

The new guy stared at him for a moment, then slowly shook his head. "Uh-uh, I think I'll pass. Live in suspense, you know?"

"Good choice," Glen answered with a humorless smile. "Come on, we got a mess to clean up in one of the bedrooms. The boss got a little happy with some poor fuck-up last night."

---------------------------------------

"I think someone was, um, snooping around last night. Know anything about that?" Jack didn't look up from what he was doing.

"It was me," Samantha admitted. She was perched on the edge of his desk, staring at the disorder around her. Jack's "office" used to be a kid's room, judging by the trains and race car motifs on the peeling wallpaper. Wires, tools, diagrams of buildings, old cell phones and God knew what else littered the stained carpet. His desk was an explosion of more of the same items. Samantha wondered how he could be so efficient in the midst of such a mess.

"Mm-hm. I know." He pried the casing off a dvd player and inspected the insides carefully.

"The screams woke me up."

He raised his eyes to hers, a slow grin coming over his lips. "Oh, yeah. Sorry about that babe. Work, ya know? It never stops."

She swallowed. "If that's what you call work...."

"Actually work _and_ play. That's what makes it so fun."

"Right." She slid off his desk and started for the door. "I'll leave you alone now. I was just wanting to see how you were doing."

He ran a hand through his greasy hair and leaned forward. "I think you were wondering why I didn't show up at your bedroom door last night. Isn't that right Sam?" His tone of voice was sly.

"No, I wasn't wondering. I know why you didn't. You didn't because you got your kicks from torturing that guy." She smiled at him but her stomach dropped at her words. It was true, of course. She knew how he was, knew what he liked. But still, to say it out loud.....

Those malevolent eyes pinned her down but she stared right back. After a moment he began to laugh.

"Oh don't worry babe. I'll be coming for you. I always do don't I?"

"See that you do," she said softly and turned away. As an afterthought she looked over her shoulder at him. "And this time around don't take so fucking long," she told him, deliberately hardening her tone of voice.

He smacked his lips, tongue flicking out to explore their scarred surface. "Or?"

"You'll find out," she answered. "Who knows, you might like it."

"Ah, now _this _is getting interesting. I think, Sam, that you're getting as bad as me. Hm?" His tone was challenging. He was always challenging her, seeing how far he could push her. On one hand it bothered her, made her afraid that one day things might go too far. On the other hand it was fun. It really was.

"Like I said.....you might like it," she said and left the room.

-----------------------------

"Damn, almost out of peroxide," Samantha said. She poured it sparingly over the newest bite mark, this one on her left shoulder. She examined the wound in the mirror. "Do you always have to do that when you finish?"

"I don't do it _every_ time. Anyway, don't kid yourself. You like it." He was sprawled out naked on the rickety bed, tossing the switchblade he'd given her from one hand to the other.

"Yeah I do," she admitted, looking at him from the corner of her eye. She'd only put a few scratches on his chest and upper arms tonight. The bleeding had already stopped. She rarely felt any guilt about it nowadays. He enjoyed it, he wanted it. Just like she did.

_Sometimes I feel like I should thank him for what he did at Arkham. For "making" me go. But if I did that....well I'd never hear the end of it would I?_

"I'm glad I stayed," she told him, turning around to face him. "You know that? I am."

He tossed the knife faster, catching it effortlessly, and she was amazed at just how quick he was.

"Me too," he finally said and he sounded like the old Jack. "So, you gonna stand there all night or are you gonna come over here? We're not done you know."

She smiled and made her way to him slowly. "I guess I'm gonna come. Again."

* * *

**A/N: **Next chapter will be a flashback too. They'll continue on til further notice.

* * *


	5. Alex

**CHAPTER FIVE**

_Alex_

"Glen, I don't like dogs. You know that. I'm more of a cat person."

"I'm gonna have to let him go then. He doesn't get along with the other dogs, almost killed one of them. He won't listen, just does his own thing. In other words he's dead weight. You like cats huh? Well he's like a cat. Stubborn, antisocial, mean as hell."

Samantha looked out the kitchen window at the dog. He was tethered to a small tree by a leash, snarling and pacing back and forth.

"That's quite possibly the most evil looking dog I've ever seen," she said. "Why did you guys even bring him here if he's such a pain in the ass?"

"Look at him! Beautiful animal. Full blooded Doberman. Show dog quality. His owner had an.....accident so we decided to take him. Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"That's why he doesn't like you guys, you killed his master. Don't bother to deny it, I know you did. Anyways, what's the boss say about all this?" she teased. "You sure he's okay with you asking me?"

"He's the one that told me to ask you. Right before he left."

Sam lifted an eyebrow in surprise. "He did? That doesn't sound like him."

"I know, right? You know how he is. Anyway, I have his permission to talk to you," Glen chuckled but she could sense the resentment in his voice. "You want the mutt or not?"

Not answering, she walked out into the yard. She strode up to the dog and looked him over. He _was_ beautiful, with sleek muscles rippling under a short black coat and an elegant yet deadly air about him. At the sight of her he tensed up.

"Careful." Glen had followed her outside. "He'll bite."

"Hey pooch," she said quietly, ignoring Glen. "We're gonna get a few things straight. I'll take you, but you _will_ mind me. No barking, no biting, no pissing me off. Get cute and you'll be on your own. That alpha male shit won't work on me, 'k?"

The dog sat down, cocked his head at her curiously. His brown eyes were sad and she couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

"Do you know his name?" she asked Glen.

"Yeah. The guy that had him called him Alex. You know, after the character in that Clockwork Yellow movie."

"Orange," she muttered, unwrapping the leash from the tree. "Well he looks like an Alex so I guess the name stays." When she had him loose from the tree he leaned against her leg, frantically wagging his stump tail.

"Yeah, real mean dog," Samantha said with a grin.

"Damn, he was ready to tear our balls off. He loves you."

"I have a way with vicious things," she quipped.

Glen laughed. "I believe it._"_

"When is the boss coming back?" she asked abruptly. When he was away her mind constantly turned to him, no matter how hard she tried to distract herself.

Glen shifted from foot to foot at the mention of the Joker. "Tonight I think."

Jack was gone more than he was around. Sometimes he'd leave alone, sometimes he'd take a few goons. Samantha never knew what he was doing and she didn't really want to know. Better to not think about it.

Sometimes, she decided, living in ignorance was for the best. Especially when it came to him. Knowledge was a funny thing. It could liberate you or it could devastate you.

"I think I might go for a ride," she said. "Do myself a pill, take the 'Cuda out for a spin. Have myself some fun. I'll be back in a little."

Glen sighed. "Don't go into the city. If you get pulled over or if that piece of shit car breaks down you're screwed."

Jack had given her an old 1971 Hemi Barracuda not long after the Arkham escape. If it were in better shape it would have cost a fortune but it needed work. A lot of it. The leather interior was cracked, it smelled like mold and rust spots dotted its dark green exterior. It was also loud. When she was coming or going in that car everyone knew it from the noise and the cloud of smoke. It was hulking and old but she adored it. She was shocked he'd given it to her, although she suspected it once belonged to a murdered thug, and even more shocked that he'd given her the kind of car she liked without her saying anything.

He'd just known. She supposed that was one of the reasons she tried to overlook what he had become. Jack may have been a monster....but he was _her_ monster.

"No way in hell am I getting near the city," she answered. Just the thought of it made her uneasy. They were in Gotham again, in a remote area not far from Wayne Manor. "I'm just gonna go up and down the road. Getting a little stir crazy, ya know? I'll put Alex in the house while I'm gone."

"Just be careful."

"Always," she answered lightly.

-----------------------------------

Sometimes she wondered how she'd gotten herself into this mess, how it had all come to this. It was interesting to her, of how she'd offered him a ride all those years ago and now here they were. So different and yet the same.

He had been invisible back then, a stranger, a young man who made people uneasy for reasons they couldn't quite understand. Sometimes she tried to recall how he'd looked and it wasn't easy but eventually she could manage.

Dark eyes, lacking their current malice but always intense. Thoughtful and almost sad. And that face.....achingly handsome yet his expression had always been pensive and closed.

He had hardly ever smiled back then.

And now....

Samantha looked up at him as he circled the bedroom. His posture was stooped, his movements erratic yet infinately self-assured. To the citizens of Gotham he was the Joker, a murderous freak. To his minions he was the boss, something close to a demigod. To her he was Jack.

She'd long ago given up telling herself she didn't love him.

"The knife, the knife," he muttered, stopping in front of her. "Get it."

She brought it from behind her back and pushed the button. The blade sprung forth with a metallic click.

"You know what I want, dontcha? Hm?" He stared down at her as she sat on the bed, his expression hungry.

"Yes," she whispered. "Of course I do." Looking at him made her shaky with lust, trepidation and excitement. She didn't think that would ever change.

He moved closer, head lowered, shoulders hunched, eyes barely visible from the black kohl smeared over them. Her mind dimly noted that to most normal people this situation would be the stuff of nightmares.

"Then give it to me. I want it. I...want....it. Now."

----------------------------------------

Afterwards they lay on the bed, their blood mingling. He was on top of her, his slender hands wrapped around her wrists, her legs wrapped around his waist. He was still inside her. His mouth hovered over hers, mutilated and smeared crimson. Waiting. Samantha stared up at him, into those terrible black eyes, and she didn't flinch.

"Again," she demanded, tightening her legs around him.

He growled, a horse sound ripped from the back of his throat, and pressed his mouth onto hers. The kiss was brutal, both promise and threat. After a moment he pulled away, teeth scraping her lips. His ragged nails sank into the flesh of her wrists.

_"You__,"_ he whispered in an accusatory yet wondering voice. "Look what you do to me. What am I gonna do with you Sam? Hm?"

She knew what he meant but chose to brush the comment aside. In all the time she'd known him he'd always had a strange thing about sex. To him it was for the weak, it was something to be avoided.

Yet here he was. He couldn't help himself either. She wondered if he justified it by telling himself they had known each other _before_ so it was okay. Just like she used to do and still did.

"If you don't know what to do with me," she told him, moving her body tightly against his. "Then I can show you."

* * *


	6. Thin ice, deep water

**CHAPTER SIX**

_Thin ice, deep water_

_He looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Both his eyes were blackened from the beating Patterson's men had given him, his face was deathly white from blood loss and pain. His mouth was a piece of raw meat, oozing blood constantly._

_His mouth.........._

_Now he'd always be smiling. Now people would remember him, would see him as something.......more. Ideas floated through his head, enhanced by the agony from his cuts. Oh the things he could do now. Those mob assholes thought they'd broken him with their fear toxin and their crooked shrink but what they'd done....well, they'd helped him. Freed him, as it were._

_And when the time came he'd repay them. He'd show them it wasn't about money and Armani suits and women. It was about destruction and fearlessness and mortality. It was about how everything burned. It was about hanging on to _nothing_. He'd show them. They'd see. _

_His tongue flicked over the corner of his mouth, tasting the wounds. It hurt but he didn't mind a bit. He tried to smile and the motion made the gashes bleed around the crude stitches. Droplets of blood spattered into the sink, sounding oddly like rain on a tin roof._

_Tap_

_Tap_

_Tap_

_"Whatcha smiling about?" he asked his reflection and giggled, sending fresh rivulets of blood down his face. _

-------------------

"Not long after that I paid a visit to 'ole Mom and, um, Dad. Figured I had some catching up to do with 'em...so to speak."

Samantha sat on the bed, listening silently. Jack was sitting on the floor, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He had been rambling about the aftermath of his run-in with Patterson and Crane but now seemed intent on speaking about his parents.

"Ya know, Dad always said a life without structure was a sign of a disturbed mind." Jack continued, unfazed by her silence. "He insisted on order. Rules. _Structure_."

_Your Dad was also a scumbag,_ she thought but kept the thought to herself. Instead she said: "Hm."

There was really no reason to say much. He was a talker and now he had her to listen to him. The things he spoke of were dark things, dredged up from the very bottom of his soul and into the light like so many squirming monstrosities. And he did so with malignant glee.

"Did I ever tell ya what I did to them? My, ah, my _par-ents_?" The last word came out as a hate filled snarl.

She blinked, not really wanting to hear a story that would keep her awake half the night. "No, but I can guess."

A dangerous grin spread over his face. "I'll tell ya...later."

"Okay," Samantha said, barely surpressing a sigh of relief.

He was quiet for a few seconds, hands drumming on his legs restlessly, tongue sloshing in his mouth as his mind whirred along. He could never relax, hardly slept. She didn't know how he could stay at such a frenetic pace all the time. Since he'd broken out of Arkham he'd changed, become edgier, moodier. Samantha wasn't sure if it was from the months of confinement or the drugs the doctors pumped into him or both. At first she hadn't noticed but as they spent more time together she could see it. It worried her a little. He wasn't in any position to become more unstable.

"You know Sam, if you decide to leave and go back to Gotham I want you to tell them I kidnapped you and you....you _escaped._ Don't tell 'em the truth."

She cocked her head in confusion. "Why not? And what makes you think I want to leave?"

"I'm just saying 'if'. And _if_ you do tell Gordon and the rest of 'em the truth they'll hound ya for the rest of your life. They'll always watch you, might even put you in Arkham." He paused for a second, eyes gleaming with amusement. "But then again you might get to meet the Bat-man. He'd come to you.....to ask about _me_."

The Batman. If he could feel anything approaching love she figured it would be for Gotham's absent guardian. Probably not _that_ kind of love, but then again who knew with Jack? No, he seemed to have a bizarre kind of affection for the other man. In a way they were kindred spirits. Brothers in lunacy. Of course it wouldn't stop Jack from making his life miserable.

She knew he missed him, was waiting for him to surface. And if he didn't surface she knew Jack would eventually get bored and draw him out.

"Well I've always wanted to see him in person," she answered casually. "But given the circumstances it wouldn't be a good idea, would it?"

"Hmm no. Guess it wouldn't. Anyway I'm just, uh, messing with ya Sam. Just saying that if you ever left you'd have to lie to get 'em to leave you alone."

"You keep bringing it up. Are you wanting me to leave?" She knew he didn't want her to. No, he was playing one of his games, trying to find out if she wanted to leave.

"Nononono. Why would I want that? Hm? After all I did to get you to come with me?" He absently picked at the fabric of his green vest. "No, I don't want you to go anywhere. Definitely _not_."

The way he said it sent a twinge of concern through her. He sounded like he wouldn't let her go if she wanted to. That hadn't been part of the deal. But he also had a knack for making everything sound sinister.

_Because it usually is._

"Besides....they'll want to know about those marks you got. Can you imagine the look on Gordon's face if he knew _how_ you got them? Hm? Think he'd still like you after that?" He lifted an eyebrow. "Come to think of it maybe you should tell him the truth one day.....just to get him, um, _going_. Shake 'em up a little." He had a dreamy look on his face, as if imagining Gordon's disgust and finding it pleasurable.

Samantha lit a cigarette and looked him over. "You sure love a good mind game don't you?"

He leaped from the floor and settled on the bed next to her. "You know I do. Always have." He leaned in close to her, make-up smeared face inches from hers. "So do you."

"Depends on the game," she answered, absently flicking ashes on the floor. "If it doesn't grab my interest I stop playing. You know that as well as anyone....Boss." She smiled at him, noting he didn't return it.

"Yeah I kinda noticed. Oh yeah...I was gonna tell ya about my dear old Mom and Dad wasn't I? How could I, ah, for-get about that?"

Samantha could only shake her head in resignation. Yes....Jack certainly was a talker nowadays.

* * *

**A/N:** Next chapter is Jack/Joker's story about his parents.


	7. Wayward son

**A/N: **This chapter may be a little harsh for some so here's your warning, heh. Also I'd like to thank my wonderful readers and reviewers. You're all awesome. Thank you so much.

**CHAPTER SEVEN  
**

_Wayward son  
_

_"Look at this little freak. Hardly ever talks. Never smiles. Like a little robot. I think he's a fag too. Look at that pretty face but he won't have anything to do with girls. Hey boy, you a faggot? Huh?"_

_He kept his eyes on the wall and ate his dinner, ignoring his father's taunts._

_"Well he's not answering so I guess that's a yes. Or maybe you just get your rocks off by setting fires. Little pyromaniac fucker."_

_He'd gotten caught setting abandoned houses on fire. Again. His father had been furious, had in fact beaten him senseless. But in the end he'd gotten his only child off the hook. His dad was a judge, which came in useful sometimes. Not that he cared. They could put him in juvenile, put him in the nuthouse for all he cared. Nothing could be worse than the life he was currently living._

_Sometimes he'd dream of bashing the old man's head in. Making him beg, like he used to beg. Listening to him choke on his own blood and watching the life fade from his eyes. And his mother......_

_"Oh stop being so mean to him." She giggled. She was drunk. They both were. Mom and Dad shitfaced on a Saturday night. It was a family tradition, more sacred than any holiday._

_Later on they'd fight. Dad would hit Mom, Mom would simper and whine, eyes gleaming with masochistic excitement. Then they'd go upstairs to fuck._

_Typical Saturday night._

_"Stop being so mean to him? Are you fucking kidding me? He's a freak, a fuck-up. You're the one that gave birth to him. You couldn't do any better than that?" He motioned to his son with his fork, the contempt on his face evident._

_His Mom giggled again. She always laughed when Dad started on him. Thought it was hilarious._

_"Fifteen years old and I bet the only pussy he's ever seen is yours Diane."_

_She broke into gales of laughter at his father's mockery, slapping at the table gleefully. She looked like the perfect upper-class housewife, pretty, immaculate make-up, nice clothes. In all reality she was a foul-mouthed whore._

_At least that's the way he saw it. He hated her as much as he hated Dad._

_He gave no indication of hearing them. Eyes on the wall, chewing mechanically, mind turning over scenario after scenario involving his parents, his private school, the whole damn city._

_Pleasant diversions to keep him from jabbing a fork into his Dad's eye. He bet that would stop their taunting laughter. Replace that annoying magpie sound with horrified screams._

_A little smile played at the corner of his mouth and he was quick to stifle it._

_They all stifled him. Called him a freak, called him crazy, all because of the little...problems he had. And that was okay. That was fine._

_It really really was. He told himself that one day he'd get them back. One day they wouldn't think he was such a joke._

_One day._

---------------------------

When he fell silent Samantha glanced at him. He was smiling, pleased by something known only to him.

"I'm sorry," she finally said. "They...."

"Ah ah ah, I'm not done yet. And don't feel sorry for me. You know better than that. Right? No, I'm just giving you an......example."

_As if knowing his dad was a child murderer that tried to blame him for the crimes wasn't enough of an example. And let's not forget his mother going along with the whole thing._

"Okay, they were pricks, that's for sure. Look, you don't have to tell me what you did. I...."

"Oh but I _want _to Sam. I want to. Never told anyone and I feel the need to, um, _gloat_ about it. To get it out of my head and into......yours." He pointed at her and she noticed his gloves were beginning to turn black from the dried blood on them.

_How many people's blood is on those gloves? And you let him touch you with those._

She shivered and considered trying to steer the subject to something else. This story was going to be bad, that was a given, and she didn't want to hear it. Yet he was adamant on telling her. His need to make her the keeper of his secrets, a witness to his crimes, was unnerving.

_He knows you'll never tell. And what's the fun if he's the only one that knows?_

Samantha was sure he'd told someone the story of his parents. Right before he killed them that is. Like the old saying went...dead men tell no tales.

His hand closed around her wrist lightly, as if to prevent her from moving. She could feel the blood stiffened leather and was vaguely shocked at her total lack of repulsion and involuntary excitement at his touch.

He smacked his lips, eyes darting over her face, then the wall, then back to her face. "_Now_, as I was saying......"

------------------------------------------

_He'd broken into their house one evening, easily bypassing the dogs and alarms. After all he used to live there and knew the place well._

_His mother had been sitting alone in the kitchen, nursing a bottle of wine. He'd crept up behind her and grabbed her, covering her mouth to stifle the scream he knew would come._

_She'd stiffened and fought ferociously. Until he spun her around to face him. He wanted her to see him. _

_For a long moment she'd merely stared at the thing that had invaded her home. Some lunatic who stank of blood and old sweat. Then he spoke._

_"Hi there, uh, mom," he'd hissed, smiling through the homemade stitches. "How ya been?"_

_Her eyes went wide with horror and recognition and she screamed and screamed behind his hand. She knew. Oh she sure did. She knew why he'd come back._

_And all he could do was laugh, careful not to rip his stitches._

_He had pulled her to the upstairs bedroom, tied her up nice and tight with the plastic ties he brought, and settled down to wait for Dad. After about an hour his wait was over. He got Dad under control with a golf club he found in the hall closet and took him upstairs too._

_For a long time he paced around the room, triumphant. They were bound and humiliated now. Terrified. Knowing they were going to die. And he was laughing. Like they used to laugh._

_He'd brought a knife with him. You always needed to be prepared, didn't you? He'd considered using the pearl-handled switchblade, it would have been poetic justice since his Dad had given it to him, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead he settled for a steak knife, not too sharp but not too dull. The perfect balance._

_"As you can see, I'm a lot happier now," he'd told them, pointing at his wounds with the knife. "I guess in a way I have the two of you to thank. In part anyway."_

_And thank them he did._

_At one point he'd told them if he was really as sick as they'd told the cops he was he'd rape dear old Mom just like Dad raped those little girls. That had gotten a nice reaction, plenty of thrashing and moaned protests behind their gags. He'd played it to the hilt, making them think he was going to do it before finally stopping._

_"Just a joke. Can't you take one? I'm not like you two," he grinned down at his mother. "Besides, I think you'd enjoy it. Dad would probably enjoy it even more, wouldn't he? No, here's what I'm going to do. Oh wait, nevermind. I'm not gonna tell you, I'm just going to show you? That okay?"_

_He spent a lot of time with them. It was his final visit home after all and he had to say goodbye properly. Show them what a fine job they'd done of raising him. As he worked on them he told them exactly what he intended to do in the future and the despair in their eyes was intoxicating._

_When it was all over the bedroom was awash in crimson. He'd given them both a smile like his, experimented with how deep he could cut into their flesh with a not so sharp knife and given them both tiny little knifepricks, hundreds of them, on their bodies._

_His father was still alive when he burnt their house to the ground._


	8. Family bonding

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews!

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

_Family bonding_

"That was two days after you came looking for me," he said simply.

Samantha nodded, feeling a little ill. Partway through his story she'd looked down at her hands, keeping her gaze there for the story's remainder. She could feel him watching her, gauging her reaction to his words.

"You see why I didn't come out when you were there? Hm? Do you have any idea what I would have done to you? You see, when you, um, reinvent yourself you have to get rid of your past. _You_ were part of my past. But you were the only one I didn't want to.....snuff out. So I left ya. Get what I mean?"

"I know," she responded. "It's okay. I'm over it now."

"After all this time I'd hope you would be. _Forgive_ and _forget_ ya know."

She laughed and finally looked at him. "This coming from a guy who waited years to get back at Crane. Oh and got himself put into Arkham to get to him."

He shrugged. "He wasn't the only reason I went to Arkham." he said cryptically.

He'd told her that before and given her various reasons but something about it always bothered her. She was too tired to question him further though.

"Now," Jack brightened up, clapping his hands together, his mood suddenly ebullient. "Your turn Sam!"

"What? A story? Can't I do it tomorrow? I'm really tired. You may not need sleep but I do."

His eyes narrowed. "It's not like you've got anything to do tomorrow. Do you? What...get high and play with your dog? Hm? C'mon, you know the rules." He held up two fingers. "_Two_ little examples. Right? So go on."

For the life of her she didn't know why he wanted to hear anything about her parents and her past, much less why he'd want to play this game. It was oddly childish and pointless in her opinion.

"Who cares about this past shit anyway?" she asked, getting annoyed. "It's over."

"Just do it or you'll never get to sleep tonight. I can promise you that. I went first, now it's your turn. Quid pro quo." His voice dropped into a low growl.

Samantha glared at him but knew she couldn't argue with him. Not when he was like this. He wasn't exactly the type of person you wanted to argue with anyway.

"For Christ's sake," she sighed. "Fine. Let's do it then."

----------------------------------------------

_"Damn, Little Ben is turning into a little fox. She's gonna cause you problems when she gets older. Guys gonna be killing themselves to get at her." Roy offered her a gap-toothed leer._

_"Fuck you, she's twelve and you're a junkie," her dad said to him._

_Samantha barely looked away from the tv. Most of her dad's friends called her "Little Ben" because she looked so much like her father and had his personality. She was getting to the age where it embarrassed her but she dealt with it. Their increasingly hungry looks as she grew older was something she found harder to ignore._

_"Just kidding man, don't get pissed."_

_Her Dad grunted. "Okay, whatever. How much did you want? The wife gets home soon and she doesn't like customers hanging around."_

_Roy pursed his lips thoughtfully. Sam glanced over at him and noticed with distaste the clammy sweat on his face and the bread crumbs lodged in his beard._

_"How about a fifty bag?"_

_"Great. You gotta do a shot with me though. You know the drill," Ben rose from the threadbare couch and stretched, eyeing the other man slyly._

_Roy ran a hand over his beard, knocking a few crumbs loose. "Cutthroat sonofawhore," he grumbled. "Fine."_

_Her Dad laughed. He was always confident, always cool, even when Mom was yelling at him, even when he was too doped up to walk. "Let's go in the back room and get this done then."_

_He turned to Sam. "Sammy honey you stay here and watch tv, okay? Dad's gonna be busy for a while. Anyone comes to the door don't open it."_

_"Alright," she said nonchalantly. She heard him say those words several times a day every day. It wasn't a big deal, it was what he did for a living. He was a drug dealer and Roy was a good customer, a hardcore heroin addict with a trust fund that wouldn't last forever._

_He smiled at her, showing his straight white teeth. He looked like a movie star and she often wondered why he never became one. He'd definitely had the charm and con-man sensibilities to further himself along in Hollywood._

_"Greatest kid ever. You know that right? You keep me going Sammy, don't ever forget that."_

_She knew better. Drugs kept him going, not her. But he was happy right now and so she humored him, returning his smile. "I know Dad."_

_Always the same thing. Every day. Her Dad sold, he used. Her Mom worked, she used when she got home. Then the cops would come, she'd have to go live with her grandparents til Mom and Dad got out of trouble. Repeat as necessary._

_Her father pulled aside the blanket covering the living room window, peered outside for a moment, then motioned Roy down the hallway. She heard the bedroom door shut._

_After thirty minutes she went to warn Dad that Mom would be home soon. Knocking didn't bring a response so she opened the door._

_Her father was on the bed nodded out. Roy was on the floor in a daze, his needle on the floor beside him. When he noticed her he grinned stupidly._

_"Hey angel," he slurred. "Come 'ere an sit in my lap. Gimme some of that while your Daddy's conked out."_

_"Fuck you," she replied and walked out, shutting the door behind her._

_Mom was going to be _pissed_._

_----------------------------------_

"There, can't I just do the second one tomorrow?"

"Uh.....no. Now. Those are the rules Sam."

He settled back on the bed, twiddling his thumbs eagerly, a look of exaggerated anticipation on his face.

"For fuck's sake," she muttered. "Ridiculous."

-----------------------------------------

_Her and Dad were sitting in his old pick-up truck in the parking lot of Wayne Memorial Park. The day was freezing cold and they were the only ones there._

_"Let me cut your line out honey," her Dad told her. "I know how much to give you. Can't make mistakes with H if you're an amateur. It can kill you."_

_She watched him drop a little powder on the dashboard and deftly cut it into a thin line with his driver's license. He rubbed his finger into the excess and ate it._

_"Okay," he said with a flourish. "All yours."_

_She hesitated. "So this is good stuff, right? What's it gonna feel like?" _

_"You'll like it. You'll love it! You're probably gonna puke so don't get scared. Trust me, it is fucking......incredible."_

_He was shooting himself up and she couldn't take her eyes off the blood in the syringe._

_"Ok," she said, taking a deep breath. "Here goes nothing."_

_"Got a straw?"_

_"Yep."_

_Afterwards she lay back in the seat in a daze. He was right. It was everything he said it would be. Instant bliss._

_She knew she'd need to stay away from it. Otherwise she'd be like Dad._

_"Ready to go Sammy?" he asked her. "Can't stay gone too long, your Mom will figure out we're not buying cigarettes and catch on."_

_Her Mom would not approve of this. This was their little secret. Mom was the practical one, the annoying voice of reason._

_"Yeah we better," she replied. Her head was in a golden haze and it was hard to speak. "Hey Dad?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Thanks for letting me try it and not freaking when I asked."_

_He smiled at her warmly. "No problem Sammy. You're nineteen, old enough to handle it. Merry Christmas."_

_------------------------------_

"You did smack with your Dad on Christmas? Oh Sam that's......that's dysfunctional."

Jack's giggling only heightened her aggravation.

"I'm glad it amuses you. That was my goal throughout the whole story. Now....I'm going to sleep."

Jack continued to laugh. "Was that all you asked for? Did _Santa _know?"

She burst into involuntary laughter at the comment. "Oh shut up."

* * *


	9. Curiosity killed the

**A/N: **Next chapter we're going back to present day for a little while. Thanks for your reviews!

**CHAPTER NINE**

_Curiosity killed the..._

Glen wasn't sure why he felt the way he did about her. It was only a tiny seed of resentment but that was enough to make him worry. Why should he care about some broad being around? She didn't bother anyone, stayed out of the way and seemed to be a pretty nice person. Damn nice looking too but he didn't dwell on that fact. That was the kind of thing that could get you killed.

The first time he'd seen her was in the Narrows, the night she'd pulled a gun on the boss and he'd just let her and her friend go. It was unusual, sure, but he'd seen the Joker do weirder things.

But then there was the Narrows shootout. Then the Arkham escape. Then the whole thing had _really _started to bug him. Who was she? What was she to the boss?

He'd been running with the Joker for a while. Before that he'd worked for an arms dealer named Harold Boggs. One day Boggs had a visitor drop by his warehouse office. Most fucked up, bizarre person Glen had ever seen. Purple suit, Glasgow smile, make-up like a deranged clown. Boggs knew him but was obviously uneasy in the guy's presence so Glen stuck close, ready to pull his gun if necessary.

Boggs and the clown talked about doing a deal, Boggs eating the entire time. He was a big guy, easily pushing 400 pounds, and he never seemed to stop eating. The clown had said something, Glen couldn't remember what, and Boggs had snorted contemptuously.

"Why would I do that for a _freak_ like you? I've got plenty of normal, stand-up guys willing to give me more. Get the fuck out of here. I don't wanna see you again." he'd said in between a mouthful of spaghetti.

"I was afraid you might say that," the clown had answered, sounding just as meek as an accountant.

And in an instant it happened. Glen never had time to react.

The clown grabbed the fork Boggs was eating with and shoved it deep into his mouth. He fell out of his chair, the fork lodged in the back of his throat.

Blinking in astonishment Glen went for his gun, only to realize the guy the clown had brought with him had a .45 to his head. He knew right then he was dead. Instead, the clown had casually propped a foot on Boggs' big belly and offered Glen a deal.

"Tell ya what, I'll give you a choice. I know who you are. You're Victor Zsasz's little brother. Hm? Because of that I'll cut you a break. You can come to work for me or I can cut Harold here up and feed him to you. While he's still alive of course. Oh and after that I'll kill you. Slowly." The clown had grinned at him and Glen had shuddered in horror. The guy meant every word he said. He'd do it and do it gladly.

Glen said yes, he'd work for him. He never found out how he knew Victor was his brother and frankly he didn't care.

"Hm, good answer," the clown snickered and stomped on the fork in Boggs' mouth, impaling the man to the wooden floor.

And that was how Glen had met the Joker.

The Joker ended up being a pretty decent boss. Glen did as he was told, asked no questions and stayed the hell out of the way when the boss was in one of his moods. In return Glen got money and the glory of being a henchmen to the most feared man in America, if not the world. Glen loved the terror on people's faces when they saw the boss, he basked in it vicariously. It was unadulterated power. It was satisfying.

But now......

Now times were slow, there wasn't much going on. The boss was working on some things but he was vague about what they were. It was frustrating, all they'd done to Gotham and now they were mostly bouncing from hideout to hideout and doing little jobs. It was as if everything they'd done had been for nothing.

But that wasn't the real problem, the problem was _her_. Samantha. For the longest time Glen waited on the boss to kill her and he never did. Not that he had anything against her, he didn't. It just seemed wrong that the boss would kill his own men for next to nothing and let her do as she pleased. It wasn't fair.

None of the other guys were sure what her purpose was. Some said she was related to the Joker, some said she was just another hire, others insisted she was screwing the boss. The boss never told them anything so all they could do was gossip. Samantha herself was no help. She didn't talk much.

Glen stayed away from the gossip but he'd formed his own opinion of what was going on. A very definitive opinion.

He'd noticed the way the boss and Sam behaved around each other on the rare instances they were in the same room. They didn't speak, didn't get close, but they'd look at one another as if they were the only ones in the world. The looks were intense, hungry, challenging. The first time he saw it he thought: _Yeah they're fucking all right. A lot._

The idea his boss might be banging her bothered him. The Joker was supposed to be above that. He was supposed to be a pure killer, an agent of chaos. Above humanity. Instead he was dragging this woman from hideout to hideout and staring at her like he wanted to eat her up. Not cool.

He was disappointed but he wasn't 100 percent certain. So he decided to find out for sure.

That was the only reason he did what he did. Not because he was some pervert. Sam was a good looking broad but she wasn't his type. He liked them short, doe-eyed and giggly. No, he just needed to know.

At night he and the rest of the guys slept in an old RV. After the others went to sleep he snuck back into the house. He checked the boss's office and it was empty so he made his way to her room. Light came in from the gap at the bottom of her door. For a moment he stood frozen, gathering his nerve. What he was about to do was stupid and if he got caught......

But he just had to know.

He put his ear to the door and listened. Nothing. He was about to give up when he noticed the keyhole. Heart pounding, feeling sick, he knelt and peered through the hole. It took a few seconds for his eye to adjust but then he saw it. At first it didn't register but when the realization hit him he was shocked and sickened.

The boss was naked and tied to the bed. _Blindfolded._ And _she_ was on top of him, also naked. A pearl-handled knife glinted in her hand, just inches from the Joker's flesh.

"Come on, cut me," Glen heard him saying in a low voice. "Doitdoitdoit."

She smiled faintly and moved down his body until her head was level with his groin. Her head lowered and the boss snarled in pleasure and frustration. Glen was about to turn his head when he saw her draw the knife over the boss's ribs. A thin line of blood welled up and the boss moaned.

Glen did turn away then. He made his way downstairs in a daze, wishing he'd never looked through that keyhole. _Now _he knew why he and the other guys had to stay out of the house at night. _Now _he knew why the Joker looked at her like that. Tonight he'd seen the downfall of a demigod and he didn't like it a bit.

The Joker letting some woman tie him up! Begging her to cut him!

"Sick fucks, the both of 'em." he muttered to himself.


	10. Wastelands

**A/N: **We're back with Sam in Arkham Asylum for this chapter.

**CHAPTER TEN**

_Wastelands_

"Sometimes I think we should flood the whole island and call it a day," Gordon said. "Ever since the Crane incident this place has been a wasteland."

At night the Narrows had an eerie beauty. Gordon could hear the trees rustling in the breeze, see the streetlights down below. If he squinted hard enough he could see the skeletal remains of burnt out tenements in the distance. Spectral tendrils of fog snaked over the barren ground. It was a desolate wonderland of urban decay and rampant nature. You almost wanted to wander out into it and explore its mysteries but you knew that would be foolish....so all you could do was stand and look from a safe distance.

Hell of a place for a psychiatric hospital.

He and Samantha were on a third floor patio area reserved for Arkham employees to smoke and eat. At this time of night it was usually locked but Gordon had pulled a few strings to get after hours access. He'd also sent Dominic away for a while.

"I've had nothing but bad luck with the Narrows," she said from behind him. "So I'd have to agree."

"I guess you're wondering why I'm meeting you like this."

"Yeah but I figured you'd tell me in time. I was so happy about you bringing me real food that I didn't really care."

Biting the bullet, Gordon turned to her. "You know about Eric, don't you? Did you hear what happened to him?"

A shadow of pain crossed over her face and she seemed to struggle to compose herself. "Yes, I know," she answered quietly.

"You know he killed him."

"Yes," she said quietly. "I know that."

"How did you find out?"

"I saw a newspaper."

"The Joker never talked to you about it?"

She looked at him evenly, her eyes guarded. "No."

He took a deep breath. "He beat him and buried him alive Sam. Pinned a card to his body." God, he didn't want to do this. It was cruel, especially given what she'd been through. But she was holding out and he had to break down any loyalties she might have to the Joker. "You cared about him, didn't you? He seemed like a nice guy. He didn't deserve what was done to him. _You_ didn't deserve what was done to you."

He wasn't about to tell her that Eric had been planning on going to GCN and telling everything he knew about Samantha and her relationship with the Joker. Rumor had it what Eric had known had been intriguing to say the least. He'd been scheduled to make his first appearance on tv the day after he went missing. That was something she was better off not knowing.

"No, he didn't deserve it," she whispered and looked away from him. "I should have never went out with him. But I didn't know _he'd_ get out."

"It wasn't your fault. And if it hadn't been for the Joker's thugs being hired as guards he'd still be here. You didn't know what was going to happen."

She laughed humorlessly. "All I wanted was to get out of going to court. And look," she waved a hand broadly. "Look what's happened."

"That's why you need to talk to me. I need to know anything you remember. Please."

Her gaze flickered to his. "I already told you, I don't remember anything."

"If you expect me to believe you don't remember the last three months then you must take me for a fool Samantha. There is no way........."

"I don't! Whatever happened to me the night I escaped must have wiped out..........."

"Oh save it!" Gordon shouted. "You're covering up for him. I don't know why, I don't _want_ to know why. All I know is every day you continue this you jeopardize lives! Don't you understand that? _Christ!_"

Her eyes narrowed, then softened. For a long moment she regarded him with a mixture of pity and sadness.

"I don't remember anything," she finally said, an unmistakeable note of finality in her tone.

In that moment Gordon knew he'd lost her. Whatever had happened in the past few months had changed her and he could no longer trust her. Knowing that hurt him, he'd always liked her, but catching the Joker was the bigger picture.

"Ok then," he sighed. "I'm going to start treating you like his accomplice. I'm sorry."

She frowned, started to say something. Then her eyes went over his shoulder, widened, darted back to Gordon.

"Oh Jim," she said. "You brought _him_ with you? He's been here this whole time?"

"He wants to talk to you Sam."

"You could have just told me, not baited me out here with food and cigarettes. Jesus."

"And you would have said no."

Samantha conceded the point with a nod and looked back to the black figure watching them. "Fine. I'll talk to him. Don't have a choice do I?"

Gordon chose not to answer, instead saying: "I'm going for a walk. Be back in ten minutes."

------------------------------

"So you're Batman eh?" Samantha said when Gordon left. "I wondered when you'd show up."

The hulking figure stepped out of the shadows. "Just tell us the truth. Nothing will happen to you." His voice was impossibly gruff.

She had to laugh at that one. "Think so? What would you guys do if I gave him up? Lock me in the MCU? Witness protection? Don't you remember Lau? Nowhere would be safe."

"You have my word. We'll protect you."

_He says it like he really believes it. Amazing. He should know better._

"Well I certainly feel important now. Hey, where were you when he broke out of Arkham? Escaped from the SWAT guys? Those might have been better times to start showing interest."

He regarded her, eyes dark and keen behind his cowl. She felt picked apart, not unlike the way Jack made her feel, and it irked her.

"If you know anything you need to tell us. It could save lives. You're not a bad person, not like him."

"So you and Gordon have been discussing me? I'm flattered. But I hate to tell you....I don't know anything. He never talked to me about what he did. If I did know something I'd tell you....but I don't. I've seen enough death."

Batman inclined his head slightly. "All the death you've seen is because of him. Don't think for a second you wouldn't be next. Don't think you're safe from his madness. He's evil, he's insane, and I want him put away for good."

And she knew he was right. Jack was out of control and the chances he might kill her were pretty high. But that wasn't what bothered her. No, what bothered her was the other people he would kill. Had already killed. It had always come down to that.

But it still wasn't enough to make her talk. Knowing that made her despise herself.

"Could you capture him alive?"

"I have before."

_What, for twenty minutes before he escaped again? _

"If I can find anything out you and Gordon will be the first to know," she lied. "I don't want him loose on Gotham but I don't want him dead either."

"And _I_ don't want him dead. I want him to sit in a cell for the rest of his life to rot and suffer. I want him to pay for what he's done to this city and its people." Batman's lips were thin with anger and one of his hands curled into an involuntary fist.

There was an edge to his voice, something raw and personal, that caught her off-guard. Jack had hurt this man, had hurt him terribly. She studied him, struck by how different he and Jack were. One heavily armored, oozing strength and command. The other malevolent and lean, possessed of an uncanny cunning.

_Myths in the flesh. Icons of righteousness and anarchy. God help me for getting stuck in the middle of this one._

She had no intention of telling Batman and Gordon anything. Ever. The things she remembered wouldn't help them anyway. A part of her wanted to tell how she'd really gotten so beaten up, how she'd gotten dosed with fear toxin. Ruin their expectations.

But she couldn't. To tell them would be to unveil the whole story and she just couldn't do it.

_Besides,_ she thought. _Everyone needs their secrets. _

-------------------------------

"So what do you think?" Gordon asked. He and the Batman were in a dark corner of Arkham's parking lot.

"She's lying but doesn't want to admit to any loyalty to him. Playing both sides. The risks are too big for her to chance opening up to us. I don't think she'll turn on us but she won't turn on the Joker either."

"That's what I thought too," Gordon exhaled slowly. "And she was our only hope of finding him."

"There's still hope."

Gordon raised a questioning eyebrow. Whoever Batman was he had to be one of the most optimistic pessimists Gordon had ever seen.

"I think he may come after her." Batman explained.

"Why would he do that? He already almost killed her and then discarded her like garbage. Why would he come back for her?"

"First of all I think there's more to that story than we know. Secondly...she's leverage. The Joker doesn't like anyone having leverage against him. I'm going to keep a close eye on Arkham for a while."

-------------------------------------------

"Ok guys.....we got a few things to do," the boss said. "Get ready to go and be fast about it."

He'd been in the other room on one of his cell phones. Vance couldn't hear what was said, only the uneven tones of the Joker as he spoke to whoever was on the other end. When the phone call was over he'd come in practically bouncing off the walls with malignant excitement.

Everyone jumped up as if they'd been shot at. When the boss said go you didn't screw around. Especially lately. Since the Glen incident he'd been nuttier than usual. He still had his head about him, still knew how to set things up but he was edgy.

_No not edgy, _Vance decided as he surreptitiously studied the boss. _A rabid fucking dog._

It had to do with Sam, he knew that. She was why he was like this.

As they left their new warehouse hideout Vance looked at the back of the boss's green-tinged head and felt dread. This was going to be nasty, he could feel it in his bones.

--------------------------------------------------


	11. Arkham food

**A/N: **This is still Sam in Arkham.

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

_Arkham food_

"So you're getting moved soon," Dominic said.

"Yeah, to Williams Medical Center for a few days, then they're gonna cut me loose," Samantha answered.

They were sitting at a picnic table in Arkham's courtyard. It was a deceptively beautiful autumn day, giving no hint of the brutal Gotham winter lurking around the corner.

_One day I'll move down South to get away from the winters here, _Samantha thought. Probably not, but it was a nice thought nonetheless.

"Are you nervous?" Dominic asked. He'd become chattier in the past week and she couldn't help but be leery of that. Gordon had finally broken down and told her the guy was his nephew but it didn't completely assuage her suspicion.

"Of course I am."

That was true. They had no idea how nervous she was. Not Gordon or Dr. Peloni or Dominic. They didn't know how she felt. To say she was conflicted was an understatement. She was caught between wanting to see Jack again to being furious over Eric and afraid for her own life.

Glen's words rang in her head always. He'd told her about Eric and he'd been telling the truth. What else had he been telling the truth about?

"I'll watch out for ya. I've done a good job so far." Dominic grinned at her from across the table and she smiled back halfheartedly. He was a stocky bull-necked guy in his early thirties with piercing blue eyes and a laid back demeanor. It was hard not to like him but she knew to keep him at arm's length.

"You have," she said. "Your uncle must be proud. Although to be honest I'm surprised he hasn't taken you off this job yet."

It had been a couple of weeks since her conversation with Batman and she hadn't seen him or Gordon since. Not only that, but Dr. Peloni had begun to let her pretty much do as she pleased at Arkham. It was as if they didn't know what to do with her.

_Or they're waiting. Using you as bait to see if he'll come for you._

Dominic ran a hand through his close cropped hair. It was the sort of thing Gordon did and she grinned despite herself.

"He wouldn't do that. Not while you're here. Believe it or not Sam, he doesn't hate you."

"Oh I don't think he hates me. Just thinks I'm a traitorous piece of dirt."

Dominic shook his head and sighed. Then his eyes focused on something going on behind her. Samantha turned around to see what had gotten his attention.

A large white box truck made its way up Arkham's driveway and through the gates. Samantha was able to read 'Fun Times Catering: For all your special occasions!' printed on the truck's side before it vanished behind the building.

"A catering truck? What the hell is that doing _here_?" She turned around to face Dominic who merely laughed.

"They bring food to Arkham on holidays. Cupcakes and stuff. You know, to cheer everyone up. It's Halloween after all. They've been cleared, nothing to be concerned about."

Despite his words a knot of worry gnawed at her.

----------------------------------------------

"I want you to know I was completely against moving you to Williams," Dr. Peloni said. "But the administrator insists on it."

"As does Gordon I'm sure," she said and the doctor nodded.

"You'll be fine though. The toxin hasn't done you any long-term damage. You may notice impulse control problems but that will pass."

"Great. Just what I need," she murmured. "Impulse control problems when I'm trying to get clean."

Dr. Peloni chuckled. "Don't be disheartened. The methadone is working for you, right? Helping your withdrawals and cravings?"

She'd confided in the doctor about her habit weeks ago, about how she wanted to clean up, and he'd been helpful and non judgemental. It was as if he thought he owed her for what had happened during the Arkham breakout. Of course he didn't but she wasn't about to turn down his aid.

"Yeah. It's okay. Methadone seems a little extreme for painkiller addiction though."

"Not at all. That's what it's for. People associate methadone with heroin abuse but that's not always the case."

"That makes me feel better."

He smiled and cocked his head. "Hear how quiet it is out there? There's very few times Arkham is like that. I enjoy it."

"Yeah because minimum security and the staff are all eating Halloween cupcakes in the cafeteria. Even Dominic went down there to get one. Did you get any?"

"No," he shook his head and made a face. "I'm not much for sweets. Do you want to go get some? I'll walk with you."

"No, I don't want any. I'm a little wary of the whole thing. I guess I'm too paranoid but can you blame me?"

"No, not at all Samantha. It's perfectly understandable."

For a moment they sat in comfortable silence in her room. Samantha wanted to thank the doctor for helping her. He didn't have to, his job was with Level Three inmates, not non-violent patients that weren't even crazy. He'd never gotten angry at her for not being forthcoming with knowledge of Jack, seeming to only care about her well-being.

She never got the chance to thank him. Dominic burst into her room, breathing hard as if he'd been running.

"Come to the rec room. Fast," he panted.

----------------------------------------------

The rec room was deserted except for the three of them. A tv bolted into the ceiling was turned to GCN.

"I was coming through when I heard the tv," Dominic said. "This doesn't look good."

"Shh, listen." Dr. Peloni said. "That Engel fellow is speaking."

_"This is Mike Engel with breaking news. An explosion has been reported at both Wayne Tower and Blackgate Prison. Reports started coming in a few minutes ago and both incidents seemed to have been synchronized. No word on if there are any deaths or who might be responsible. __The community is being strongly urged to stay indoors and to cancel any Halloween plans......"_

Engel trailed off and looked off-camera. His head cocked as an unseen person spoke to him urgently. Then he nodded, the consummate professional, and turned his attention back to his audience.

_"I've just been told GCN has received a video by a person purporting to be the Joker. Let's go to that now."_

The three of them exchanged looks.

"Damnit," Samantha swore under her breath.

The picture went black for a moment, then cut to an image of an immense building. Fire engulfed its midsection. Even through the smoke, even through the darkness, the building was unmistakeably Wayne Tower. The footage was being shot from the rooftop of an adjoining building, affording a bird's eye view of the destruction.

Without warning the picture shifted to the street below. The camera swung back and forth, making the fire trucks and police cars below a sickening blur.

The picture jerked again, settling onto a face. _His_ face.

Samantha heard Dr. Peloni inhale sharply from somewhere beside her but she didn't look at him. Her eyes were glued to the screen.

_"Did you think I was gone? Hm? nonono, you oughta know better than _that_."_

He paused, popping his lips softly as he considered his next words. Sirens wailed in the distance and Samantha swore she could hear distant screams. When he spoke again his voice was fluttering and cheerful, as if confiding in a friend.

_"All you fine, uh, people are probably wondering why I'm back. Right? Well.....just having some fun. Things are so boringggg you know? The Bat-man hides, everyone is hidinggg. C'mon people, it's Halloween. Live a little. I plan to. I'm not done tonight. No, not at all. Plenty more to do. Maybe the Commissioner and his, uh, little friend will come out and play too, hm? Think you can stop me? Then _come on_."_

He paused, black gaze snapping to something in the distance, then looked back at the camera and continued.

_"Oh, I almost forgot. I've uh......lost something. Something of mine is gone and I want it back. I want it back and if I don't get it back....." _He arched an eyebrow, the gesture as telling as any words. _"So if anyone finds it will they return it to me? Thanks in advance." _He giggled, sounding for all the world like a hyena.

The picture went back to an apprehensive looking Mike Engel.

Dominic and Dr. Peloni both looked at her, their gazes speculative.

"Um, do you think he was talking about you? When he said he lost something?" Dr. Peloni asked. He sounded unnerved.

"I....don't know," she answered, feeling numb. "I don't know w......"

The sounds of shrieks cut her off.

---------------------------------------------------------------

**A/N: **I realize I probably suck for ending the chapter that way but it seemed like a good stopping point.


	12. Come as you are

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

_Come as you are_

"What the hell?" Dominic growled, poking his head outside to look into the hallway. Samantha went behind him and he warned her away with an outstretched hand.

"What's going on out there?" she asked him in a low voice. "See anything?"

"Oh _shit_," he gasped. "Both of you peek your heads out real easy and tell me I'm not going nuts."

Sam and Dr. Peloni looked at each other and shrugged. Cautiously they looked around the door.

One of Arkham's doctors was making his way slowly down the hall. His head swung back and forth and a weird sound came from his throat, a cross between a hum and a whine.

But the strangest part was the fact he wasn't wearing pants. Behind him an orderly was on the floor, sliding forward like a slug.

"You have _got_ to be fucking kidding me." Samantha breathed, caught between being horrified and wanting to laugh.

"Oh my," was the only thing Dr. Peloni could manage.

There were more coming, all from the cafeteria area, and none of them were acting normal. One woman would occasionally scream, then stare at the ceiling, then scream again. Another woman, a nurse Sam recognized, was stark naked and sitting on the floor.

"They're out of their damn minds," Samantha said. "Like they're on drugs."

Dominic turned to her, eyes wide. "The cupcakes were poisoned." he said simply.

"Or drugged. Wait, did you eat some?"

"I went to get one but the line was too long. Didn't want to leave you for too long so I came back."

"Ok," she nodded. "You might want to get on the phone and call Gordon or whoever the hell you can get ahold of."

"Yeah, yeah, right. Okay." Dominic fished his cell phone out of his pocket and began dialing.

While he used the phone Samantha surveyed the people in the hallway, wondering if they were dangerous.

"They're obviously drugged with something," Dr. Peloni remarked. "Hard to tell what but it looks like a hallucinogen."

"They're getting closer, I wonder what they'll do when they see us," Samantha said.

"I doubt they'll pay any attention to us," the doctor answered. "They're in their own little worlds."

_"SHIT!" _Dominic swore furiously. "I can't get anyone on the phone. It just rings and rings, then cuts off. I've tried Gordon, the MCU and 911. Nothing."

"Great," Samantha sighed. "Look, we can't stay here. You know Ja....uh the Joker's got something to do with this. Which means he's liable to try and get in here. I mean, look at these people. Who's going to stop him?"

"Hell he could _already _be in here." Dominic put his hand on the butt of his gun and looked up and down the hall.

"I know a safe place where no one can find us," Dr. Peloni said. Perspiration beaded the old man's forehead and Samantha felt terrible for him. "There's some tunnels in Level Four. They're underground and through them we can hide until help comes, or we can use them to leave Arkham without being seen."

Samantha frowned. "There's a Level Four? What do you put in that section?"

"Just special needs inmates. Ones with health problems and the like."

"Oh."

Dominic looked sceptical. "Hey doc, why can't we just leave through the front door and drive away? Going down into some tunnels seems like a lot of trouble...and risky."

"We could do that yes. And the Joker could have an ambush waiting on us through the front. If he's wanting to get to Sam he'll have men waiting outside at all escape points. You forget, I was here when he escaped. I _treated _him. He isn't stupid."

They fell silent for a moment. Sam could hear Engel droning on about Blackgate Prison and Wayne Tower in the background and it hit her.

"He went after those other places to keep the cops busy while he does what he wants to do here," she told the two men. "He's using them as a distraction."

_With the bonus of wreaking havoc thrown in of course._

"Shit," Dominic snarled. "I bet you're right."

In the hallway someone began to laugh hysterically. _"Look I made myself bleed! Look I'm bleeding! Looklooklooklook!"_

When they looked they could see one of the nonviolent patients, a middle-aged man, holding his hands up proudly. His bloody wrists looked as if he'd been chewing on them. A man behind him began to cackle and pull his own hair out.

"Let's get out of here," Samantha whispered.

"I second that," Dominic said, pulling his gun out. "Let's go in the _opposite _direction of the cafeteria."

----------------------------------------

Nathan stood in the shadows outside Blackgate Prison and watched the mayhem unfold. How the boss had gotten a grenade into the place was beyond him. The boss could do all kinds of things. Nathan sometimes suspected he wasn't even human.

"Why do we have to stay here anyway?" one of the newer guys asked irritably. "The grenade went off, the Joker left, there's only _two _of us. What can we do?"

Nathan held up the rocket launcher the boss had given him. "_You're _gonna hand me ammo and _I'm _gonna blow up some cop cars, that's what we're gonna do. We just wait til they all go into the prison, then boom!"

The other guy looked at him doubtfully. "But why? Doesn't make any sense. We're gonna get killed ya know. Soon as you start shooting that goddamn thing the cops are gonna be on us like hornets."

Nathan smiled at him pityingly. The boss had told him it would be glorious, that everyone would remember Nathan's name after tonight. No more faceless nobody. Plus he'd be able to repay the cops for all the times they'd locked him up, said he was insane, put him in mental hospitals. Why couldn't this dumbass understand that? No, he'd much rather perish in a rain of bullets than live as a frightened nobody.

He'd done that long enough.

"Then I guess we'll die. And _what_ a way to go out. Now get your fucking mask on."

----------------------------------------------

They moved briskly down the empty hallway, occasionally looking behind them. Some of the people from the cafeteria were moving pretty fast, tagging behind them but not seeming to notice them. They had begun to shout and bang on the doors to patient's rooms.

"I wonder how many people here aren't tripping their asses off," Samantha said. "We can't be the only ones."

"Surely not," Dr. Peloni looked exhausted. "The ones who didn't eat those cakes are probably hiding."

"Well I'm warning you both right now. Any of them get cute I'm gonna shoot them," Dominic mumbled. The man with the chewed up wrists had bothered him.

"Don't do that unless you have no choice," the doctor huffed. "They can't help it. Oh, I'd like to stop by someone's office before we take the elevator downstairs. There's another doctor I would like to check up on."

"Is it on our way?" Dominic turned to him briefly. "'Cause I don't want to.........."

"Yes yes, it's not far. She's interning here. I'd like to bring her with us if we can find her."

"Fine by me then," Dominic said. "How you doing Sam? Hanging in there?"

"Yeah."

She couldn't stop thinking about what Jack had done tonight. Even for him this was bizarre.

_I ought to just tell them to let me go out and give myself up. This is bullshit. All this because of me. Well maybe not all of it...but enough._

Wailing from behind them. They spun around to see a nude woman on top of the man with the bloody wrists. She was licking the wounds and he was laughing gleefully.

_"I have a little doggy! Lookit the little doggy! Lookit the doggy eat!" _

"Now _that's_ disturbing," Samantha muttered. "Shouldn't we break that up?"

"Nah," Dominic said. "Let's get the fuck away from these freaks. Everyone pick up the pace a little."

They hurried along, the man's ecstatic shouting ringing in their ears.


	13. Dirty deeds

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

_Dirty deeds_

"Ok, here goes," Nathan breathed, pointing the grenade launcher at the police cars. A few cops milled around outside. With any luck he'd get them all along with their cars.

"Don't do it man," the new guy warned. "I don't want no part of this. I don't wanna get shot up."

Nathan ignored him and prepared to pull the trigger. Yes it would be beautiful, he would make them rememb........

Agony flashed through his skull. Then darkness. And nothing.

"Told you not to do it," the new guy, Jeff, muttered. He put his gun away and turned to flee when part of Blackgate Prison simply exploded outward. The ferocity of the blast blinded and deafened him for a moment. When he had his wits about him he realized he was face first in the dirt.

People were screaming, running around like crazy. Jeff lifted his head, shaking away the haze. What he saw made him both smile and shudder.

Inmates from the prison were running from the hole left in Blackgate. Some were already clearing the fence. No guards to stop them now, they'd all been killed or hurt in the explosion.

Jeff cheered hoarsely. He'd once been locked up in Blackgate and seeing this was like watching himself escape. There was gonna be trouble now.....and plenty of it.

-----------------------------------------

"Here," Dr. Peloni stopped at a door. "This is her office."

"Let me go in first," Dominic said. "You know, in case she's been into the cupcakes."

Samantha hung back as Dominic gingerly pushed the door open. She glanced up and down the hall nervously. The people weren't too close, but she could see and hear them. That was bad enough. She wondered if she had behaved like them when under the influence of the fear toxin and shook that thought away. Whatever this stuff was, it was the opposite of Crane's compound.

"Miss, put those down." Dominic said, his voice shaky and uncertain. He had his blackjack in one hand, his 9mm in another.

Sam craned her head to see into the office and immediately wished she hadn't. A small blonde woman leaned back on a large oak desk, her clothing shredded to the point it was nearly falling off her.

"Harleen _please_," Dr. Peloni was begging.

In one well manicured hand the woman clutched a wicked looking pair of stainless steel scissors. She opened and shut them, smiling widely. Looking closer Samantha saw she'd cut most of her hair off and a good deal of it was strewn on her office floor. Bloody gashes ran the length of her arms and legs.

"Look Mitch," the woman said in a thin voice. "Look what I did to myself. Isn't it wonderful? I feel so peaceful now, so _connected_ with....everything." Her blue eyes were wide and eerily vacant.

Dr. Peloni made a choking sound. "Har....Harleen, put the scissors down. You're under the influence of something and you're not thinking clearly......"

In a split second the woman leaped at him, only to fall to the floor in a heap when Dominic cracked her over the head with the blackjack.

"Oh no!" Dr. Peloni knelt to the floor next to her. "Harleen wake up!"

"Please don't wake her up," Dominic sighed. "She's out of it doc. Leave her."

"No! We have to take her with us!"

"No we don't! We _can't_. If she comes to and starts acting crazy she could get us killed or kill us herself. Now take her scissors so she doesn't play Christmas turkey on herself and let's get out of here."

"But...."

"_No_ doc. Leave her. Sam is the only person I'm obligated to here. Understand? Now we're going to leave. If you want you can stay here with your intern."

Dr. Peloni got up stiffly, the woman's scissors in his hand. "If anything happens to her........"

"I'll take responsibility yeah. Now let's get on the elevator."

Samantha stared at Dr. Peloni as they shut the door. He looked heartbroken and she wondered how close he was to the woman.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to him as they rode the elevator down. "I hope she'll be okay."

"Me too," the doctor answered softly. "She's a good girl. To see her like _that_....terrible. Just terrible."

Sam nodded and started to speak when the elevator doors opened.

"Four, right doc?" Dominic asked.

"Yes, this is it."

The corridor before them was dank and gloomy, a far cry from the sterile and brightly lit halls of where they'd just come from. A damp, faintly unpleasant odor hung in the air. The walls of the corridor were red brick, darkened with age and moisture. Iron cell doors lined each side. The place was silent except for the sound of dripping water. Shadows loomed everywhere.

"Jesus, people are kept down here?" Sam asked as they edged out of the elevator.

"A few yes," the doctor answered in a distant voice.

"Anyone I know?" she asked, only half-joking.

"Oh, you might know _me._" said a voice in the shadows.

---------------------------------------------------

"Get ready, get ready," the boss snarled over the walkie-talkie. "When I say go....go."

"Sure thing boss," Vance answered and glanced down the street. They were a few blocks away from Wayne Tower. A few blocks was way too close for his peace of mind. He could hear sirens, loudspeakers, dogs, you name it. If you could hear 'em they were too damn close.

Didn't seem to bother the boss though. On the contrary....he was positively giddy.

"Ok, here they come. Get ready to block 'em," the boss ordered over the radio.

"Copy that," Vance said, throwing the truck into drive. It was simple really. The targets came down the street, get blocked in the road by the ambulance the boss was in. While they were waiting behind the ambulance he was supposed to hit them with the truck. If the targets got out of the vehicle they got mowed down with gunfire. If they holed up in their SWAT van they got flushed out with smoke grenades.

All this just so the boss could get the guy's SWAT uniforms and vehicle. The boss sure liked to do things the hard way sometimes. Vance suspected he just enjoyed the destruction.

"Oh and when you shoot 'em try to aim for the head, hm? Don't want to mess those uniforms up too bad." the boss said, the mirth fairly oozing from his voice.

"Okay." Vance said.

Craziness.

-------------------------------------

"Now Dr. Crane, how did you get out? And you know you're not supposed to be down here." Dr. Peloni sounded anxious.

_Crane? Oh this day is turning out stellar. Wonder if he knows who I am?_

"Some nice person let me out," Crane responded nonchalantly. "One of the other inmates. Any reason why half the asylum has gone....crazier? Some new drug, isn't it? Something very interesting."

He stepped out of the shadows and Samantha took an involuntary step back. She hadn't seen him after Jack had gotten to him. She'd heard what Jack had done but that didn't prepare her for what she saw before her.

A good deal of his nose was missing, as well as his earlobes. Multitudes of pinkish scars criss-crossed the man's face and neck. He wore a patch over one eye. His good one peered at them with a hint of amusement and cool disdain.

_Christ, his face looks like a roadmap, _she thought in dismay, remembering what Gordon said about Jack forcing Crane to cut his face up, then finishing up the job when Crane could no longer continue. And with a butter knife no less.

"Dr. Crane, go back to your cell please," Dr. Peloni said, his voice more confident now.

"I will when you tell me who your friends are and why they're down here."

"That's none of your business."

"Oh come on, humor me. I don't get to meet many new people anymore. Introduce me and I'll gladly leave."

His one blue eye studied Samantha and he smiled.

"Oh wait...don't tell me. I think I know who _she_ is," Crane said, pointing at Sam.

"Nope, you don't know me," she said curtly. "Must be the cupcakes confusing you."

He laughed, the sound all silky menace. "Oh I think I do. And I didn't eat any cupcakes. So tell me...how did you like my drug?"

"Hey one-eye," Dominic interjected. "How about you go to your cage before I get mad and do something unpleasant to you?"

"I will when she answers me."

Samantha regarded him, noting the pride in his tone when he mentioned his compound. How did he know anyway?

"I think you need to come up with a better drug," she quipped. "Because that one sucked."

Crane giggled in delight and Sam could see that his sanity had left him a long time ago.

"What's the matter, don't like a little fear? Fear is good you know. It teaches you. Enlightens you. You really should consider yourself honored." Crane sauntered to the elevator, ignoring Dominic's angry glare.

"Yeah ok, I'll be sure and remember that," she answered.

"It _helped_ you," he said, stepping onto the elevator. "But you'll find that out. Soon."

The elevator doors shut and he was gone.


	14. Convergence

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

_Convergence_

"Wow Sam, you really have a way with men. Crazy ones that is," Dominic remarked when the elevator was gone.

"Does that rule you out?" she joked, trying to lessen her tension.

He looked embarrassed and turned to the doctor. "Hey, Crane can't escape can he?"

"He'd have to make it over the razor wire and the front gates are shut. I don't think he's going anywhere. Besides, there's nothing on the outside for him. Not anymore....and he knows it."

"He won't bother your intern will he? Lurleen?"

"_Harleen," _Dr. Peloni looked at Dominic angrily. "I certainly hope not. You should have thought about that when you made the decision to leave her."

"Hey I didn't know he would be running loose. What kind of place are you people running here anyway? The security is........."

"Hey Dom, keep trying to call out on your phone," Sam interrupted. She had no desire to listen to them snipe at each other, not with everything else that was going on.

Dominic grunted and dug his phone out of his pocket. Samantha slid down the wall and sat down. Her ribs, not yet healed, were killing her and fatigue was setting in.

"Nope, still not going through. Wish there was a land line down here to try," Dominic sighed in frustration. "Phone don't work, my radio don't work. What a damn mess."

He paced the hallway anxiously, looking through the viewing grates in the cell doors.

"How many people you got down here doc?" he asked. "I haven't seen anyone yet."

"Just two. They're the last two cells at the end, right next to each other."

"They dangerous?"

"One of them is. Highly dangerous."

"No chance 'ol Scarecrow opened their doors is there? He was messing around down here after all."

Dr. Peloni leaned against the wall heavily. "Very slim chance. It takes a certain key and only a handful of staff have them. Anyway if he'd let them out he'd have been killed."

"Well I'm gonna go check them out. Don't want any surprises."

Sam watched as Dominic walked to the end of the corridor and shone his flashlight into one of the cells. He stared for a moment, then turned his attention to the other cell. He frowned and moved forward a bit, as if straining to see. Something hissed inside the cell and he jumped back.

"Jesus doc! What the fuck is _that_?"

"_That _is Mr. Jones. He suffers from a form of atavism."

"What's that?" Dominic asked, hurrying back to them.

"Atavism is an evolutionary throwback. Like legs on snakes and so on. Mr. Jones has scales."

"So I noticed," Dominic murmured. "Is he the dangerous one or is it the other one?"

"It's him. You see.....Mr. Jones is a cannibal. We can't shake him from the desire to eat people because he doesn't see himself as a human and thinks it's perfectly fine." Dr. Peloni shook his head sadly.

"Damn," Dominic glanced back towards the cell as if to make sure Mr. Jones was still locked up.

Sam wanted to go see for herself but didn't feel like getting up at the moment.

_Looks like we may be here a while. Plenty of time to indulge in morbid curiosity later._

"Funny how we haven't run into any normal staff," she mused aloud. "What are the odds of nearly everyone eating those cakes? Very small. I don't get it."

"Like the doc said, the sober ones are probably hiding or ran out of here," Dominic said, trying his phone again. He grimaced and shoved it back into his pocket.

"How do you get to the tunnels from here? Just in case something nasty comes down the elevator." she asked Dr. Peloni.

"Storage room at the end of the hall. Directly across from the patient's cells. The entrance to the tunnel is in the room."

"Why would they put something like that here anyway? Seems a little unsafe."

Dr. Peloni shrugged and cleaned his glasses with the sleeve of his shirt. "Don't know. They've been here since Arkham was built."

"Well I'm in no hurry to see them," she shut her eyes. "I'm content to wait for help here."

"Ditto," Dominic said. "If help comes."

"Don't say that," Samantha said. "It will."

She didn't believe it, not for a minute. If someone did come it damn sure wouldn't be help. Not for Dominic and Dr. Peloni anyway. Her chest tightened with anxiety and she forced herself to calm down.

A loud boom sounded from the floors above them, loud enough to shake the walls. Samantha jumped to her feet and the three of them stared at the ceiling.

"The hell?" Dominic whispered.

The lights dimmed, blinked, then shut off, plunging them into inky blackness.

"Stay calm," Dr. Peloni said. "The back-up generators will come on."

As if on cue the lights came back, albeit much dimmer. From one of the cells came a coughing snarl. Then whispering, too low to make out the words.

"Good," Dominic said. "No way I want to stand down here with a flashlight as our only light. Hey doc....will that elevator still work?"

"Yes, the generator powers it too."

"Shit."

"It isn't over," Samantha continued to stare at the ceiling. "That wasn't all of it. We better be ready to move."

She didn't want to go into the tunnels, reason screeched against it. But they were trapped. It was either back up the elevator or down the tunnel.

"Just give it a minute," Dominic urged. "Let's wait a while before we go running blind."

A hissing sound filled the air. It didn't take Sam long to pinpoint the source of the noise. Red smoke was pouring through the air ducts in the ceiling, slowly drifting their way.

"Oh no," she breathed. "No, we have to get out of here. _Now_."

She wasn't sure what the smoke was but it reminded her of fear toxin.

_I am not going through that again._

Dominic gripped his gun tightly, eyes wide. "Hear that? The elevator's moving. Yeah, let's get the fuck out of here pronto. Lead the way doc."

They ran.

-------------------------------------

_We're being herded. You should have told them to just let you give yourself up._

The idea had occurred to her several times but she knew Dominic and Dr. Peloni wouldn't allow it. Besides, she didn't know what Jack wanted with her.

_He might want you to come back. Or he might want to rip you to shreds. Or both._

They trudged wearily down the tunnel. Dominic's flashlight was the only illumination they had. The tunnel had no lights, the floor was dirt, the walls cracking field stone. It resembled an ancient escape route and Sam wondered if Arkham's founder had built it in case of riots or for a more sinister reason.

"Where does this lead to doc?" Dominic asked.

"To just outside Arkham's gates. Soon we'll come to steps. At the top of the steps there's a door."

"Wait, is it locked?"

"Yes, but I have a key."

Dominic paused to regard the doctor. "Huh, just so happen to have a key? What a happy coincidence."

"I've been here for over thirty years son. I have a key to _everything_." Dr. Peloni sounded annoyed and Sam couldn't blame him.

Dominic said nothing, began to walk again.

Within a few minutes they came to the end of the line. Dominic stopped, shining his flashlight up the stone steps. The light revealed a large metal door at the top, darkened with age.

"Well, here we are," the doctor said nervously.

He fished a large keyring from his pocket, selected one and ascended the stairs, Dominic close behind him. Samantha brought up the rear, watching as Dr. Peloni unlocked the door.

"Hey," she whispered. The two men turned to her curiously. "I just want to thank you two for helping me." She felt stupid but had to say it. Just in case things turned out ugly. "And I'm sorry I've been so much trouble. When this is over we'll.....we'll go have a few drinks. On me of course."

They stared at her and she looked away awkwardly. "Carry on."

"Drinks hell, you and I are going out on a date," Dominic finally said. "I'll show you what a non-crazy guy is like. Fine woman like you....you need someone who'll treat you right."

She managed a short laugh. "You might be onto something."

Dr. Peloni winked at her. "Don't be nervous. Everything is going to be fine. I promise. Now help me open this door Dominic, the hinges are a bit rusty."

Sam watched them wrestle with the door. Fear was setting in, making the blood roar in her ears. She licked her lips, inhaled, exhaled.

_Calm down. You have to. Maybe everything will be okay for once._

But she knew better.

The door opened with a resounding groan. She could smell the outdoors, hear sirens in the distance.

They crept out into the dark woods, footsteps crunching on dry leaves. The wind rattled through the trees and Dominic started at the sound.

"Hey, you three. Halt right there and identify yourselves!"

They froze. Dominic swung his flashlight to and fro, trying to find the owner of the voice. His beam settled on four figures clad in SWAT uniforms. Out of the four only one wore a helmet.

Dr. Peloni stiffened and edged closer to Samantha. His hand found hers and squeezed it gently.

"Well it's about time you guys showed up." Dominic said happily.


	15. Hit 'em where it hurts

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

_Hit 'em where it hurts_

"I said identify yourselves!" the man commanded.

"I'm Officer Aprile, the other man is Dr. Peloni, the woman is........an Arkham patient we're evacuating. There's been an incident there. Poisoned food. The place is a madhouse."

The helmeted SWAT member stepped forward, extending a black-gloved hand to Dominic. The visor of the helmet was down, reflecting the beam of Dominic's flashlight.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Officer Kerr," he motioned to his name tag and added. "Joe Kerr."

_Oh haha. Joe Kerr. Hilarious. I knew it. IknewitIknewitIfuckingKNEWIT._

"Dom...." she whispered urgently. "Don't get near him. It's a trap. Please, let's go back in the tunnel. NOW."

Dominic turned to her, alarm on his face, then turned to Jack, bringing his gun up. Beside her Dr. Peloni released her hand and reached into his waistband. Before she could react he pulled a revolver out and held it to Dominic's temple. A loud _pop!_ and Dominic fell to the ground. He spasmed a few times, then was still.

For a moment there was dead silence. Samantha stared at Dominic in dawning horror, then looked at Dr. Peloni.

"What......why?" she finally managed to blurt out. But she knew, no point in asking.

"Nice one doc," Jack said, pulling the helmet off.

Dr. Peloni didn't acknowledge him, merely stared at her. His expression was apologetic yet _cold_. As if he were saying: _Sorry, but I had to do it._

"Oh......" she gasped, realization sinking in. "Oh you _fucking bastards_."

And she ran. One of the men made a move to stop her and she shoved him hard, sending him sprawling into the leaves. Already panting, the pain in her ribs like jabbing icepicks, she sprinted through the woods.

Another few steps and she was on the road. She paused to get her bearings, squinting into the darkness. She saw the Arkham sign and below that a smaller yellow and black sign that advised: 'Hitchhikers may be escaping patients'.

The other way then. That would take her to the Narrows. Plenty of places to hide there. She headed that way, running down the middle of the road. In the darkness she didn't see the SWAT van until it was too late. Someone burst out of the vehicle and grabbed her. She threw a blind punch at him and felt her fist connect with lips and teeth. The man swore furiously and attempted to get her in a headlock. Samantha tried to knock his feet out from under him, and when that failed, sank her teeth into the meat of his arm. He screamed and reared back to hit her, then seemed to think better of it.

"HELP!" she screamed. "Somebody help me!"

_No one can hear you. _

"Whatta ya think I'm here for?" Jack said from behind her, his gaze snapped to the man she'd been fighting with. "Think you can still hit her if I remove your hands? Hm? _No hitting_. Now let her go."

He obeyed and she instantly whirled around to face Jack. Dr. Peloni was with him, as well as the rest of the goons.

"I swear to God," she hissed. "You motherfuckers better kill me now because I'll..........."

"Ah ta ta Sam, settle down," Jack told her. "Hey, you upset about that cop? I mean...because if you are your priorities may be a _little_ misplaced. Haven't you seen the news?"

"Shut the fuck up." She couldn't stop herself from saying things that might get her killed. It didn't matter now. The rage that had come over her that night with Glen was back. He could do whatever he wanted...it didn't matter. She was over it.

"Mmm, well...._someone's_ a little worked up." He moved closer and she felt her hands clenching and unclenching at an increasing pace. A million things went through her head in a hopeless jumble. But she stood still, staring him down.

He reached out as if to touch her, then took his hand away. In the dim light she couldn't see his expression, only the pale glow of the white greasepaint. She was sure he was smiling though.

"A _little_ worked up? Come a little closer," she inclined her head in an unspoken challenge. "You'll see how 'worked up' I am."

_Oh Christ Sam, you better get a handle on yourself if you want to remain alive and intact. Take some deep breaths or something. But don't do this.....not with his thugs standing around._

Eager for whatever she might dish out he came closer. As if he wanted her to try and hurt him with his henchmen and Dr. Peloni looking on. She could hear him breathing, faster and faster. And then he was only inches away, face close to hers, close enough that she could see a hint of puzzlement through the make-up.

_My reaction doesn't seem to compute with him. He doesn't understand. Thinks I oughta be grateful. _

She hadn't intended to come after him but then he touched her, hand clasping her chin firmly. She exploded, coming at him furiously, trying to hit or knee him. His men stood unmoving, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

He grabbed her wrists and twisted them behind her, shoving himself against her. "Oh come on Sam....we've got plenty of time for that. Hm? No, what we're gonna do now is get you, um, calm. Then we'll......_finish up_ later."

Jack looked over at Dr. Peloni. "Give her something out of your personal stash doc." He glanced at Sam slyly. "Did you know that the doctor here has a drug problem? Isn't that, uh, tragic?"

"Good, maybe he'll overdose," she answered, eyeing Dr. Peloni balefully.

"I'll need help with her." Dr. Peloni said. "We'll have to hold her still, otherwise I won't be able to hit the vein or the needle will break off in her."

Jack motioned to his men. "Help him," he ordered.

"You're not getting a needle anywhere near me," she snarled, backing away.

The men came at her and she fought as best she could but there were too many and she was too tired. Eventually they had her immobile on the ground.

"Hold her arm still," Dr. Peloni told one of the men. "Okay Sam, you'll like this. It's Dilaudid. Ever heard of it? Very very strong opiate. My personal favorite."

She shut her eyes in despair. So much for going clean. And the irony was Dr. Peloni had been the one helping her get clean.

"Just a little pinprick....." he said and she felt the needle enter her arm. She opened her eyes and saw Jack standing over them.

The drug flowed into her, flooding her body with a bliss she didn't think possible. All pain was gone, all feeling. For a moment she wanted to thank them for doing this to her, for giving her the drug. For a moment. Then the fury rushed back.

_You got screwed and you got screwed good. Remember the Arkham breakout and how you were so worried about Dr. Peloni? How you jumped in between him and that thug? No wonder Jack spared him. It wasn't because you liked the doctor, it was because the doctor was Jack's and Jack still needed him. And this time around....he pretended to be concerned about you, to be your friend only to deliver you up on a silver goddamn platter. And Dom. What's Gordon going to think? Oh shit I don't know if I can keep it together. Not anymore._

She remembered how she'd been suspicious of Dominic and how she'd trusted Dr. Peloni and the anger within burned so brightly it hurt.

She looked at Dr. Peloni, her pupils mere pinpoints. "If I....ever.....see you again," she slurred. "I'll....kill you for....this."

Her gaze went to Jack. "And you.....you," she swallowed, almost losing her nerve. He was something demonic and beautiful and he had destroyed everything in her life. Or more to the point, she'd let him. After a moment she gained her resolve and continued. "I hate you. Do you hear me _freak?_ I....hate...you."

It was a lie and she knew it. Even after all this she couldn't hate him. But she wanted to lash out, to hurt him. A small part of her wanted him to just go ahead and kill her now while she couldn't feel anything.

His men stiffened in astonishment at her audacity. Jack regarded her in something close to shock and motioned everyone away from her. She tried to move, could barely lift her head.

"Go back to the van," she heard him say. Footsteps thudded away and she was alone with him.

"Sooo, you hate me?" he knelt down beside her.

"Yea...I do. In a way....I....always have."

"Well that's funny Sam," his voice lowered into a mock conspiratorial tone. "Do you wanna know why?"

She shook her head slowly, not caring to hear what he might say.

He smiled down at her, small laughs emitting from his throat as if he couldn't get over the hilarity of this particular situation. "Because I've always _loved_ you."

And then, unable to contain himself, he burst into laughter, the sound of it taunting and cruel in her ears. Something broke within her. The helplessness, flat on her back in the woods like a captured animal, and now _this._ The way he'd said it. It was all too much and she began to cry softly, turning her head so Jack couldn't watch and gloat.

He straightened up and walked away, not looking back at her.

"Get her up and let's go," she heard him tell his men, all business now.

-----------------------------------------------

"Wake up," a rough voice said.

She opened her eyes and stared at the man blankly. "I wasn't asleep," she muttered.

"Well you were nodding off. C'mon, time to get out. Hurry."

He pulled her out of the back of the van and had to support her when she got out. Her legs didn't seem to be working too good, when she tried to stand on her own she'd start to topple.

It was black outside. No lights from buildings, no streetlights. She could see the glow of flames in the distance, smell smoke. In the distance a helicopter patroled, its spotlight sweeping the buildings in a wide arc.

"Why's it so dark?" she asked.

"Blackout. Almost the whole city."

"Did...._he_ do it?"

"Yeah, of course he did. Now move."

Someone in the SWAT vehicle turned their headlights on so they could see. Samantha looked up at the building they were entering. It was little more than a burned out shell....probably was once a factory.

She stopped moving and the henchman glared at her.

"You know where you're at, don't you?" Jack's voice came from the shadows near her.

Samantha stared at the building in disbelief. Yes she did. Amazing it was still standing after all these years.

He'd brought her to the factory where they'd first met.


	16. Empty spaces

**A/N: **How many Pink Floyd references can I sneak into this story? Plenty!

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN  
**

_Empty spaces_

The thug let her go and she teetered for a moment before she found her balance. Standing there, struggling to keep herself upright in an abandoned industrial park, she couldn't help but wonder if this would be the last place she'd ever see.

"After it burned they left it," Jack said quietly. "Left it to rot. Tells you a lot about this city doesn't it?"

He emerged from the shadows and stood next to her. Neither looked at the other. For a few seconds they both stood staring at the ruined building, each lost in their own thoughts.

In the distance an explosion threw a yellow glare over the buildings and gunshots rang out. Samantha turned around to see a huge pillar of smoke and flame rising from somewhere in the city. Jack stood motionless, nonchalant to the mayhem behind him, his eyes still locked on the factory.

"We're gonna have a little....chat," he finally said, still transfixed on the building. "You're gonna go in there and wait. And when I get back you're gonna tell me what happened and why you're being so, um, so _difficult. _Got it?"

His tone of voice had a hard edge that insinuated she _would _do what he said. Or else. For a split second bravado and wisdom warred with each other in her head.

"No, I haven't done anything to y........"

Before she could finish her sentence he'd produced his machine pistol and shot the thug behind her.

"Oh sorry babe, I didn't quite hear ya over the noise....now what did you say?"

She grit her teeth and glared at him.

"No," she repeated.

He grabbed her and pulled her to the SWAT van. She tried to wriggle out of his grip but the drugs had turned her muscles into jelly. All she could do was try to dig her heels into the ground but he only yanked her along harder.

One of his men stood next to the van. When he saw his boss coming at him he backed away, hands up in a surrendering motion. Jack shot him in the face, keeping his other arm wrapped around her waist.

"Stop it!" she shouted. "_Goddamn you_, just stop it!"

"There's more of 'em in the back of the van," he whispered into her ear and pulled her so close she felt like she might suffocate. "Want me to make you shoot them? Because I can ya know."

She shook her head. "I'll go in. Okay? Just...stop. Please."

"I thought you might say that," he said with a smile.

-----------------------------------------------------

She sat in what was left of the break room and waited. One thing she had to admit, Jack not only had a taste for the theatrical, he also had a good memory. This was the first place they'd met.

What it all meant she wasn't sure.

The door to the room had been replaced and plywood covered the windows that used to look out on the factory floor. A cheap table and two chairs were the only furnishings. A couple of battery operated lanterns provided feeble light. The acrid smell of smoke still hung heavy in the air and the walls were blackened.

He'd gotten the room ready. That thought frightened her unspeakably.

She'd tried the door only to find it was locked. The sound of voices and footsteps told her Jack had posted his men outside to make sure she didn't get out.

The sound of the door unlocking made her jump. Her heart began to thud wildly and she tensed her muscles to try to run if she had the chance.

No chance of that. Jack sauntered into the room. His SWAT uniform was gone, replaced in favor of his usual outfit. Humming, he locked the door and put the keys in a pocket of his overcoat.

His eyes crept over to her and a mischievous grin crossed his face.

"Look familiar?" he asked, throwing himself elegantly into the chair across from her.

She didn't respond. In the lantern's dim glow he looked almost inhuman. A good deal of the white greasepaint had been rubbed off, the black kohl had smeared over his brow bones and seeped into the lines by his eyes. The red paint he used on his lips and scars was running down his face. The effect was hellish.

_And magnificent,_ her mind insisted traitorously.

When he saw she wasn't going to answer he sucked on his teeth thoughtfully.

"Here's what I don't really understand Sam.....before you uh ran off last month you were fine. And now I find you and you're.....um....a little different. Y'know?" His tone of voice was calm, almost placid.

She regarded him for a moment, then spoke. "First of all, was it really necessary to do what you did to get me out of Arkham? No, it wasn't. Blowing up half the city and giving those people drugs in their food was a little overboard. Even for you."

He leaned forward. "A little PCP in a cupcake never hurt anyone Sam. And I have to admit, I'm sorry I missed it. I bet it was a real _show _wasn't it? As for the rest, well, I had to draw the Bat away from Arkham. What better way than to throw a few extras into the mix? Hm?"

He settled back into the chair and waved his hand dismissively. "Besides, it isn't all about you. Sure I wanted to get to you, but I also wanted to have a little fun. Spread a little nihilism if you will."

"Eric." She said flatly. "You told me you wouldn't hurt him. But you did, didn't you? And then you couldn't even tell me."

He looked at her incredulously. "And if I had told you Sam....what then? Hm? Tell you so you could _hate _me? Well here's the thing about sweet little Eric. He was gonna sell you out to GCN and Mike Engel, didya know that? Mostly because he was pissed over what happened between you two but also for money. Everything you told him about _us, _and I do mean everything, he was about to share with the world. Think I was gonna let him do that? Face it Sam, he was a bitter little shit that would've never shut up. So I got rid of him. I hear they found him with some of his teeth in his stomach and dirt in his lungs."

She hadn't known about Eric going to GCN. Glen hadn't told her about that.

_Still doesn't make it right. I mean, beating someone to a pulp and then burying them while they're still breathing? Jack can justify it all he wants but he had it in for Eric. He would have ended up killing him no matter what._

"And while we're throwing out names of dead people," he smirked at her, obviously enjoying the conversation. "Why don't you tell me why I found Glen belly up in the house? I know you did it Sam. I come back, he's dead, one of the dogs is dead, all your stuff is still there. Your _car _was still there. Almost like.....well almost like you got scared and just ran away into the woods. Couldn't find you anywhere til the doc called and told me you were in the nuthouse. Now why would you run away like that?"

He licked his lips, eagerly awaiting her answer.

"Did you put Glen up to that?" she asked dully. "To come after me like he did?"

"Uh, if I was wanting to hurt you I'd do it myself," he answered irritably. "You should know that."

She nodded thoughtfully but didn't quite believe him. "So, you want to know what happened?"

"Yeah. I asked didn't I? So tell me."

"Fine," she said evenly. "I'll tell you everything. But you have to let me go."

That made him laugh. "Negotiations huh?"

"Think of it as a game," she answered coldly.

A dangerous glint came into his eyes. "Game, negotiation, doesn't matter to me.....it can wait. Tell me what happened."

And she did.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

**A/N: **Next chapter is a flashback.


	17. Fallibility

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

_Fallibility_

_It's all coming to a head. I can feel it but I don't do anything about it. Just get higher. Pathetic. Chemicals....it's all about the chemicals for me. The rush from sex and drugs and being around him. That's what my life has come to......and I like it. All my life I've tried to get by on as little effort, emotion and commitment as possible. So this should be a dream come true right?_

_Problem is, it doesn't feel like one anymore. I can't live this life forever. One day.....one day I'll find myself alone and broken. If he dies. If he gets caught. If I'm found. If. If. If. _

_I tied my fate to his and look what he is. Look what he's becoming. It can't keep up._

"Oh knock it off Sam," she muttered to herself. "Poor you. Enough with the introspection already."

Alex was asleep at her feet and at the sound of her voice his ears twitched.

"Sorry to disturb you," she said sarcastically and patted his sleek flank.

Samantha lit another cigarette and propped her feet up on the kitchen table. She was alone in the house, Jack had left early in the morning, taking everyone but Glen and one of the Rottweilers. Glen had dropped a crate of fear toxin on his foot, breaking a few toes in the process, and Jack had let him sit this one out. Surprising really, if it had been any of his other guys they would have went no matter how much pain they were in.

Crates of fear toxin. They'd brought those back a few days ago, along with a box of gas masks. She'd seen them moving them from one van to another and got a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. _Fear toxin_ of all things.....she didn't know why Jack would want to mess with it after his own brush with the stuff.

_Maybe that's the point. He knows firsthand what the stuff can do. Anyway, it's the same reason he's brought home submachine guns, flamethrowers, dynamite, etc. Because he's up to no good._

Oh yes, things were definitely coming to a head. He was getting more and more unpredictable, seemingly in a constant state of frustration, staying locked up in his "office" most of the time when he wasn't gone. He still paid her visits, of course he did, but the visits seemed to do more harm than good.

Take last night for example. He'd been in one of his masochistic moods and wanted pain, even more than usual. She'd blanched at what he'd asked for and firmly told him no.

In response he'd snapped the ropes she'd had him tied up with. She still couldn't get over it, one minute he'd been secured to the bed, the next he was up and coming at her, backing her against the wall. The strangest thing was he hadn't looked angry. Not in the least. Instead she'd seen a hunger....a _need_ in his eyes. She'd seen it before, in the early days, back then she'd let him tie her up a few times before she decided it wasn't a good idea. It was a question he couldn't ask, something he couldn't articulate. She thought she knew what it was and that was an extra mile she refused to go.

"No. And you know why." She'd told him, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.

He'd looked at her speculatively, then gotten dressed and left without a word.

As soon as he was gone she locked the door. She loved him, she wanted to make him happy, but her trust for him could only go so far until it turned into plain old stupidity.

"Nice day isn't it?"

Glen's voice broke into her thoughts.

She looked up at him, startled. "Christ you scared me. Make more noise next time. How's the foot?"

"Hurts like hell. Can't believe I did that. Dumb. Hey, the door was unlocked so I just walked in. Shouldn't of done that. Sorry"

"No prob. Want a painkiller? I've got plenty."

He grinned. "Nah, I've got liquor and some blow. I'm good."

Samantha was mildly surprised. She'd never known Glen to drink or do drugs. She wondered if Jack knew and dismissed the thought. None of her business. Glen was the only one of Jack's guys she could have a decent conversation with, if he wanted to get blitzed more power to him. She'd been alone with him before and he'd never tried anything. Besides, if he did get weird she had a snub-nosed .357 that would solve things.

He sat down at the table and leaned back in his chair so far she was afraid he might tip over. "Sorry, my manners suck. You want some? It's out in the RV."

She smiled politely. "Nope. I don't drink, don't do coke. Makes me feel funny."

"Yep I understand. Chemicals are strange like that, you know? One can make you feel good and another can make you feel bad."

"Yeah." She tried not to stare at him. His eyes were bloodshot, his shirt damp with sweat, his thinning hair disheveled. Sam had never seen him like that. It was funny.

"Hey pooch," he said to Alex. "Not gonna bite me are you?"

Alex sighed, didn't bother to open his eyes.

"He's nowhere near as mean as he was when you guys brought him. He's actually a good dog. I've taught him a few things, plus he already knew a bunch of commands. I guess from his previous owner."

"Is that right?" Glen's dark eyes studied her merrily. "Does he know tricks? Have you taught him to _beg _yet?"

"Beg?" She was puzzled. "Yeah, he already knew how."

"Oh wow. He is well trained then. Bet you like that."

"Uh sure. I guess."

"Well, I'm gonna go back to the RV," he got up unsteadily. "I might talk to you later."

"Alright."

She watched him limp to the RV and disappear inside. He was acting a little strangely, he had been for about a week. Wouldn't speak to her as much, seemed distant.

_He might be worried that Jack will get pissed if he sees him talking to you too much. Jack is tolerant with him but you know how that goes._

But his tone of voice when he asked about the dog knowing tricks was weird. Almost mocking. Almost angry.

Samantha glanced down at Alex. He was awake now, standing in front of her, legs stiff.

She got up and locked the front door.

-----------------------------------------------------

She went to her room and dozed off. When she awoke it was dark.

"Great, I'll be up all night now," she mumbled. Not that it mattered. It wasn't like she had anything to do.

She let Alex out to use the bathroom, then sat on the floor of the bare living room and drank a Coke. Outside she heard the Rottweiler begin to bark. It sounded close and she swore to herself. It was supposed to be tied up. It had already gotten into a fight with Alex and come out a little worse for wear from the encounter. She didn't want Alex to try his luck again with the larger, heavier dog.

She poked her head out the door. "Alex!" she called. "Alex, get over here now."

Nothing. Just the sound of the other dog barking somewhere behind the house.

Head still fuzzy from sleep she started to go outside when she got the strangest feeling. Her hand rested on the butt of the revolver in her pocket.

_Somebody's here. Watching me._

"Hey Sam, it's just me. Glen. Don't shoot me okay?"

"What the hell are you doing out here in the dark?" she snapped in annoyance.

"Your dog, I think he's hurt."

His voice closer, coming onto the porch.

"Where's he at? What happened?" she asked.

Glen didn't answer. His face appeared in front of her, pale and angry. She began to walk backwards, trying to get back into the house when she saw his fist coming at her. Agony exploded in her head and she reeled. He hit her again, in the jaw this time. Her teeth clicked together painfully and then everything went black.


	18. Results may vary

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

_Results may vary_

When she came to Glen was standing over her. A quick check of her pocket revealed he'd taken her gun.

"Why'd you do that?" she asked, gingerly touching her face where he'd hit her.

"I had to," he answered shortly. "Now that you're awake we can get on with this. And don't you dare get up."

"Get on with _what_?"

He pulled something over his head. A gas mask. In the dim light he looked like a huge bug. Then she noticed the aerosol canister in his hands.

_Fear toxin. Shit._

"No, no, no," she whispered. "Don't do this. Please."

She tried to get up and he brandished the can at her mockingly. From a dark corner of the room something growled softly. He'd let the Rottweiler in.

"What did you do with Alex?" she asked.

"I shot him."

"You...you bastard. What the fuck is your problem?" she exploded. "Why are you doing this to me? I've never done anything to you. And besides....do you know what'll happen to you if _he_ finds out?"

He laughed, the sound hollow behind the mask. "You mean the boss? Bitch, he's the one that _told_ me to do this to you."

Before she could respond he pointed the canister at her.

The world turned red.

----------------------------------------------------------

"I saw what you two were doing," the thing said. "Sick, both of you. Disgusting."

It swiveled its insect head from side to side, huge eyes gleaming in the light and continued in its clicking voice. "But you know, you've got a nice body. You must be a good lay, right? You've been fucking him all this time and he let you live. So look at it this way...you had a good run."

It was on top of her, a giant roach saying filthy things to her. Telling her it knew everything about her. She believed it. It told her the clown wanted her dead and she believed that too. She would die alone, discarded, raped and murdered by this demonic insect.

_I was used. Used like trash. Now he's thrown me out for this thing to enjoy and it'll tell him what it did to me and they'll laugh and laugh and laugh. _

"Please don't....please get off of me," she whispered. When it didn't she started to scream. It was suffocating her, the weight of its body crushing her down.

"You think you're something else don't you? Well I'll show you. You're nothing. Gonna put the blocks to you girl, gonna take you down."

"What have I done?" she panted, staring up at it with wild eyes. "Tell me what I've done? I...I promise I won't do it again. Just please let me up. Don't do this....._please._"

It merely laughed at her. "How humiliating is it to beg like that? Don't you have any shame? Look, let me just get this out in the open, okay?"

She looked away, trying to squirm away from it and it backhanded her. "Stay still....damn. Okay, here's the thing Sam......you're ruining him. You're ruining everything. Fucking women, I hate you all. Cunts every one of you. Think you can control men with your bodies. Well it might work on him but it won't work on me."

The thing jumped off of her and towered over her. "It isn't fair that I have to watch him kill the other guys for next to nothing while you get to do whatever you want. You get a car, you get drugs, you get freedom. He gets laid. You get laid. I don't get laid. Can't even go find a whore because I can't leave here, can't risk getting caught. Alone all the fucking time, never knowing if I'll still be alive the next day."

Samantha wasn't paying attention to his rant. Something was growling in the shadows near her, feeding off the thing's anger.

"Are you listening bitch?!" The insect kicked her in the ribs twice. The second time she felt something crack and screamed miserably.

"Not so confident now are you?" It sneered.

And then something happened. The pain was damn near unbearable but it seemed to ground her. The haze of unrelenting terror lifted a bit.

_It's just a drug. The drug is making you afraid and crazy. It's all a lie. All a lie. Think about the pain and how you're going to get away. Nothing else._

She looked up at him, struggling to keep her composure. It was a gas mask and nothing more. He wasn't a monster. He wasn't going to rape her and kill her as he'd said.

She wouldn't allow it.

"I'm begging you," she said. "Let me go."

"Aw, look how scared you are," Glen taunted. "I didn't think you were afraid of anything. But you're afraid of me, aren't you?"

"Yes," she answered eagerly, playing along.

"You should be."

He wandered around the room nervously. She knew his nerve was failing him. He wasn't sure what to do with her.

Something was moving on the porch outside, sending a stab of fear through her heart. Claws clicked on rotten wood, back and forth. Whatever it was, it was pacing. The Rottweiler's snarls grew louder. It heard the sound too.

"I'm gonna sic that dog on you. Let it chew you up a little bit," Glen rambled. "I know you don't like dogs."

He walked over to the dog and pulled it to her by its collar. Sam eyed the butt of her gun sticking out of his waistband. The Rottweiler put its massive head down, its mouth inches from her face. Ropes of drool hung from its jowls.

"Get it away from me," she told Glen. The fear was threatening to overtake her again. If the dog stayed near she'd panic.

Glen stood there, swaying from side to side. Waiting.

"Get it away!" she screamed.

On the porch something uttered an infuriated bark. She heard the sound of breaking glass, then saw a flash of black and tan fur.

Alex.

Glen cursed and reached for his gun. Alex went straight for him, knocking him to the floor. His gun clattered to the floor and she almost cheered in relief.

_Just like the movies. This is it. Do it now. Last chance._

She leaped up and grabbed his gun, then her own. Alex had him by the shoulder, furiously trying to get to his throat. Glen kept his hands up to keep the dog away. The Rottweiler circled around them, hesitant but sporting for a fight.

"Don't do it," she warned it, shaking her gun threateningly.

The dog ignored her and jumped at Alex, knocking him off Glen and sending him sprawling. Its enormous mouth clamped onto Alex's neck and it began to shake its head. Alex yelped in pain, claws scrabbling for purchase on the wooden floor.

There was no avoiding it. She shot the Rottweiler. It slumped to the floor and Alex got up painfully. His side and neck were oozing blood and her heart broke at the sight.

"Come here," she told him softly and he sat at her feet, leaning against her legs heavily.

She regarded Glen. He lay on the floor, staring at her hatefully.

"Take that damn gas mask off," she ordered. Every time she looked at it her heart caught in her throat.

Instead he tried to run, getting up unsteadily and heading for the upstairs. Alex made a move for him but she stopped him. She aimed the .357 at the back of his knee and fired.

He went down with a shriek of agony and she couldn't help but smile.

_Serves him right after what he's done to you. You should just kill him now. Shoot him in the head or shoot him in the other leg and let him bleed out. Doesn't matter. He deserves it._

"You're not going anywhere," she told him and slumped down to the floor, gun still aimed at him. "You move again and I'll send _him_ after you." She pointed at Alex. "Now take the mask off."


	19. Never been any reason

**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

_Never been any reason_

Glen hesitated, then slipped the mask off.

"That's better. Don't you think it's kind of sad you had to wear it? I mean I understand you didn't want to get a faceful of that stuff but afterwards you kept it on. Unoriginal. You're not Crane. You're.........."

"It sure worked on scaring you senseless," Glen commented.

"Yeah it did. For a while anyway. I'm still scared....just not of _you_."

It was true. Lurking on the edges of her thoughts, a dread of something intangible. She tried not to think about it but her mind kept circling back to it. Worry gnawed at her like a rat's teeth.

"Talked to Eric lately?" Glen abruptly said.

"Huh?" She shook her head and tightened her grip on the gun. This wasn't the time to listen to him, she needed to figure out what she was going to do before she lost it again.

_If I freak out Glen will tear me to pieces. Gotta do something about him._

"_Eric_. You know who that is, right? Or is it that easy for you to forget who you used to screw?"

"You're awfully interested in my sex life. Why is that? Mad because you know what I do with your boss? That I do those...things with him and not _you_? Or is it because you want him for yourself?" She smiled at him mockingly.

Glen glared pure hate at her and she knew he wanted to come after her. She wished he would. Instead he stayed put. After a few seconds the anger left his face, replaced by dark cunning.

"He killed Eric, you know that right? I should know 'cause I was there. Oh, maybe that was supposed to be a secret. Oops! Anyway, wanna know what he did to him? The boss took him out to this field and beat the living shit out of him with a lead pipe. The kid was spitting teeth right and left and his face was caved in. Couldn't recognize him anymore. I remember blood bubbles coming out of his nose and mouth when he tried to breathe. Oh sorry, going off-track. Then the boss cut him a little bit. You know how he enjoys doing that. He whispered something in Eric's ear and whatever the boss said made him freak out. By the time we threw him in the hole he was crying for his mother."

Glen paused for effect, studying her intently. "He was still alive when we covered him up. That's how the boss wanted it. Oh, almost forgot, he safety pinned a card through his lip. Details, y'know? The details are important."

She stared at him, hoping that he was lying. He wasn't, she could tell.

"Why?" she asked simply.

"Why not? Same reason he wanted me to do away with you. Never been any reason for the boss to do half of what he does. Did you think he'd keep you around forever?" He snorted derisively. "_Come on._ Look who we're talking about here. You got played honey."

"You lie," she whispered. "You're trying to mess with my head. You lie."

"Sure about that?"

The look on his face infuriated her. Smug. Superior. Here she was with a gun on him, had already shot him, and he was acting like he had the upper hand.

_He does. He's pushing your buttons, hoping you'll freak out so he can regain control. Take him out. Do it and get out of here. _

"Just wait til the alcohol and coke wears off," she told him. "You're going to be in so much pain you'll be crying for your mother. But that still won't be anything compared to how you'll feel when the Joker gets back. If you're telling the truth then he'll know you failed. So you'll be fucked. If you're lying he won't be happy to learn what you did to me. Again, you'll be fucked."

She rose to her feet and continued. "I don't know what you thought you were going to do but here's some advice....if you're going to go through the trouble to torture and kill someone don't get fucked up beforehand. That's just sloppy. Look who you work for....you should have learned better from him. But you couldn't help it could you? Just got too bitter, too eager. You worked for him so long....just to end up like this. Over me.....a lowly _woman_. I bet that stings doesn't it?"

"How you feeling Sam?" he asked matter of factly, not taking her bait. He raised his voice in a taunting falsetto. "Look at you, you can't even decide what to do. Should you stay or go? Is Glen telling the truth or is he lying? Should I kill him? Gee I don't know, my little brain is soooo confused! Ohhh the big decisions! Does it make your head hurt?"

His voice returned to normal. "I'm disappointed that you're so fucking dumb. I expected better. The only thing I can say for you is I'm amazed you're up and talking. I gave you enough of that shit to drive anyone nuts. Must be because you're an addict, huh? You're used to being a fucked up mess."

She regarded him for a long while. Worry, dread and a terrible anger burned within her, incinerating anything positive. She felt bereft. No hope. None. The worst part was that Glen was right. He might have been a thug and a murderer....but it didn't make him any less right.

"Alex," she said firmly. The dog looked up at her expectantly.

_I'm not a killer._

She pointed at Glen. "Get 'em."

The dog was on him in a second, jaws clamped on his throat. Glen struggled feebly, weak from blood loss and pain, but Alex merely growled and shook his head. Glen's feet kicked at the floor helplessly and he screamed.

Samantha put a hand over her mouth and turned away. The gun slipped from her hand and fell to the floor.

_I'm not a killer._

_-----------------------------------------------_

_Running from the house, unable to stand being in it any longer. Things distorted and horrible. The woods. Then the city. Dark streets. Someone asking if she was okay. An elderly homeless man, shocked at the sight of her._

_"Hey little gal, you all right?"_

_She kept walking, stumbling a little now. So tired and cold and hurting all over. But she couldn't stop. Something would get her if she did. There in the darkness, just out of sight. It would get her and do unspeakable things to her and then let her live so she could remember and suffer for the rest of her life._

_She knew it was the drug but that didn't help now. It showed her things, made her feel things. Logic no longer worked. Not after what she'd done to Glen. Logic was a pipe dream now, like everything else in her life._

_Alex padded along beside her, whining. He was hurt but still trying to protect her. She didn't know what she could do for him. She was lost. He couldn't protect her and she couldn't help him._

_This was the moment she knew would always come. The realization that she'd risked everything and lost it all. And for what? To wind up on the street, beaten and out of her mind with no one to care. No one but Alex of course._

_She could hear herself raving but was unable to stop. A man yelled at her and she ignored him. Too tired to walk anymore so she sat down in the middle of the street. Alex stopped and laid down next to her. His breathing was labored, blood still oozing from his wounds._

_"You're a good dog," she whispered, stroking his head. "Good dog. Thank you."_

_He exhaled sharply and his body shuddered._

_"Alex?" She shook him and his body rolled limply. His eyes were glazed and half open. Dead._

_Something seized her then, horror and anger so great she thought her heart might burst out of her chest. All she could do was scream the dog's name over and over._

_It would always end up this way. Brian. Alex. Couldn't get close to anything, couldn't trust anything. In the end it would all burn. That was the only sure thing in this world._

_Sirens coming her way._

_It was over. All over. _

----------------------------------------------------------------------

**A/N: **Next chapter is back to the present.

And yes, the title to this chapter is an awesome old Head East song. It seemed to fit well. A lot of the story has song titles for chapters and references to songs (and movies and tv shows. Dominic's last name for example is Aprile, which was the last name of a mob family on the Sopranos, my favorite tv show) The reason for it is for 6 months I had no internet, no cable tv and very limited access to regular tv. So what did I do? Write and listen to the radio.


	20. Remember when

**A/N: **Thanks to my readers and reviewers, you're awesome!

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

_Remember when  
_

"So there you go," she said, angrily holding her tears back. "Happy now?"

His expression was inscrutable. For a long time he merely stared at her.

"Nothing to say? That's a first." She stood up and stretched. "I guess you know I have a lot of unanswered questions. Whether you answer them or not is........."

"I already told ya," he interrupted. "I didn't put him up to that."

She glanced at him. He was still, shoulders stooped, head lowered. Even his hands, normally in constant twitchy motion, were inert.

"Are you telling me everything?" he continued slowly. "Was that all?"

"Yeah. And it was enough. He came real close to doing....what I was talking about before he lost his nerve. Real close."

He chewed his lip, ran a hand through his hair. "Sit down."

"Not right now," she leaned against the wall stubbornly. "I think I'd rather stand if it's all the same to you."

His bloodshot eyes raised to hers. "You think I had him do that to you? Hm? You think I wanted him to....to do _that_ to you?" His voice took on a hard edge. "_You think that?_"

"I don't know what to think Jack. You're capable of anything."

"You think that." He was stating it now. His eyes never left hers.

"I already told you, I don't know what to think."

Seeing him like this was unnerving, worse than seeing him frenzied or angry. He reminded her of a coiled snake waiting for the slightest misstep to strike.

His voice turned tight with rage. "If I wanted to torment you I wouldn't have some...some _fucking bastard_ do it. I would have done it myself. And I wouldn't want to. Don't you know that?"

One of his hands clenched so tightly she thought the leather encasing it might split.

She took a deep breath. "He told me the truth about Eric didn't he? Makes me wonder what else he told the truth about."

"What _exactly_ did he see that uh......set him off?" Jack said abruptly. "You weren't very clear on that."

"Oh I think you know. You in a less than superior position I'd say. He must have been snooping around, snuck in the house one night. Hell I don't know, all I know is it set him off big-time."

His eyes narrowed. "You were supposed to lock the doors at night. How many times did I tell you...."

"Oh fucking save it Jack. Don't blame this on me. Blame _him_. He's the one that had some kind of weird hang-up about you and women and God only knows what else. And I'm the one who paid for it. Not you. Me."

He continued as if she'd never spoken. "And I told you to never trust any of those guys, to always keep your guns on you. How many guns did I get you Sam? Three? Oh and the dog. And _why_ did I do that? To protect you."

She shook her head wearily and sat down across from him. "You don't understand Jack. Being alone most of the time in those kind of conditions. The isolation. As much as I liked being with you there was always the idea it could all come crashing down at any time. You know what I mean? I'm not used to living like that. So I talked to him. It was a mistake but I'm still not taking the blame."

"I'm not saying it's your fault so drop it," he answered coldly. "And anyway, you stayed with me. Right? You could've left....but you didn't. So how bad could it have been? Huh?"

He smiled, his point made, but his body language was still tense.

"Look," she said quietly. "I want out. I can't do it anymore."

"Well why am I not surprised by _that_?" he said sardonically.

She bristled. "What the hell do you expect? To throw myself at your feet?"

He shrugged. "Uh....yeah."

"After what I've been through? Are you cra......oh and after having Dr. Backstabber shoot me up. I was trying to go clean you know......"

"Keep going," he waved his hand impatiently. "I'm sure there's more."

"Don't mock me. Don't you _dare_." The anger was coming back and she welcomed it. It would help her keep her focus because God knew she'd need it.

"I thought it would calm ya down. The doc never told me you were trying to go straight. Hm." He looked bemused. "The old man's been holding out on me."

"I know the feeling," she answered simply. "Who knows.....maybe if enough people do that to you you'll know what it feels like to be screwed over. Maybe you'll learn what empathy is...but I doubt it. Sociopaths don't feel that do they? No I guess they don't. They're the center of the universe."

In an instant he was up and leaning over the table, his face inches from hers. She flinched, but only slightly.

_Don't let him get to you. No matter what happens don't show fear or love or any of that bullshit. You want out you have to be made of iron. _

"Look," he growled, sounding tired of the game and of her attitude. "I didn't put Glen on ya. And I wish you hadn't killed him so I could get to him myself. And yeah I took care of Eric and I won't apologize for it. _Ev-er_. If he hadn't been ready to go on tv I wouldn't have touched him. Should I have told you? Maybe."

He bared his teeth in an approximation of a smile and added: "To be honest with ya I was glad he did it. Never did like him. Gave me an excuse to, um, visit with him. And you have _no_ idea how angry he was at you Sam. You see....I had a little chit-chat with him before I took the pipe to him. And ya know what? He had it bad for you....real bad. He was _hurt_. That's the main reason he was going to GCN, not the money. He hated you and he still loved you and...well....he just didn't know how to deal with it. Sad. You sure bring out the cuh-razy in some of us guys, don't you?"

"Get away from me," she whispered, scooting the chair back. His hand shot out, closing over her hand firmly.

"But at the end Sam....at the end when he found out what I was gonna do with him he changed his tune. He called you everything he could think of. Told me I oughta kill you instead. Because _you_ were bad. _You_ were trouble." He sounded amused.

"So? Of course he'd say that. I don't blame him either."

His thumb traced lazy circles over the back of her hand and she shivered.

"He got what was coming to him Sam."

She looked down at the tabletop, then back at him. "You'll say the same thing about me one day, won't you?"

He released her hand and raised it to stroke her hair. She pulled away and he sighed in exasperation.

"Or maybe you'll say it about me." He pulled his hand away and dug into his pocket. A flash of silver and a _clunk!_ as he slapped a gun onto the tabletop. It was her .357, the one she'd left at the house.

She looked at him warily but said nothing.

_And here we are. Time for the games._

"You haven't asked why I brought you here," he motioned to the room grandly. "You do remember it, hm?"

"Yes," she responded. "I remember."

How could she forget? The first day they met and the weeks after that haunted her memories constantly.

He flopped back into the chair but just as quickly leaned forward. "You know, when I first saw you....in here....I thought to myself 'Now there's a girl I could like. She's the only one in this place that knows who I am' And I was right wasn't I? You knew....you knew and you still talked to me. Matter of fact I think that's why you talked to me."

Samantha looked at him, resignation setting in. Those black eyes held her in place, never wavering. _He knew_. He always knew.

"Yeah," she admitted. "It was."

She thought of that day, that very first day, in the very room they were now sitting in. The walls seemed to lighten, phantom lights appeared over their heads. Nine years rolled away.

------------------------------------------

_She slipped into the break room only to see Greg, one of the floor supervisors, talking to three new hires. They were all seated at one of the rickety tables and Greg seemed deep in conversation with them._

_All four faces turned to stare at her as she came in and she tried not to squirm in discomfort. She hated that, walking into a room and having every person look, if even for a second. The new hires, two men and a woman, regarded her for a moment then brought their attention back to Greg._

_"Well hi Sam." Greg greeted._

_"Hi." She answered shortly and made for the Coke machine. She didn't like him, never had. Greg was one of those overfriendly guys who'd gush about his wife and kids to you while staring at your chest the whole time. When she had first started working at the factory he'd asked her out and when she declined he'd taken a petulant attitude with her, trying to belittle her at every opportunity. He was also one of the most two faced people Samantha had ever seen in her life. Confiding in him about anything job related would eventually get you written up or fired._

_"You meet the new people yet?" He asked, undeterred by her desire to be away from him._

_"I've just seen them, does that count?" Sam responded. He was going to do his best to embarass her in front of the new people, she could already tell. Sighing, she fed a dollar into the machine and it spat it back at her._

_"Little touchy this morning aren't we? They're all gonna work the floor so you won't see a lot of them. Might as well be civil and say hello."_

_"Sure thing." She muttered, trying to straighten her dollar out and making a point to keep her back to him._

_"You gonna look at them or are you gonna be rude? Damn girl, sometimes I think you're just plain stuck up."_

_Fed up, she spun around, fixing a cold glare on him. "First off, don't call me girl unless you're ok with me calling you 'boy'. You know my name, use it. Secondly, I'll say hi when I feel like it. Right now I'm trying to get a drink."_

_As if on cue the machine finally accepted her dollar and she made her selection._

_For a moment Greg smirked at her while the new people shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. Then he burst into fake laughter._

_"Oh you're just so feisty Sam, just a regular firecracker when you want to be." He cackled, trying to brush it off. She knew she'd pissed him off though and this pleased her._

_"Ok," she allowed, wanting to get this over with. "Introduce us."_

_She pulled up a chair and sat down at the table next to them, drumming her fingers impatiently on the cheap formica._

_"Well the girl here is Sandy, she'll be on the production line. Then we got Allen, who'll be unloading parts from the powder coating machine. And then we got....uh..."_

_The guy Greg was speaking of was staring at a spot somewhere between the Coke machine and the sandwich machine, obviously wanting to be anywhere but here._

_"Jack." The guy answered distantly, still looking into space._

_"Oh yeah....Jack. He'll be helping to run the powder machine. Once he gets trained he'll be the main operator. I've been told he's a real smart guy."_

_"Good luck," Samantha told him. "That's the hottest, loneliest job in this place." In truth it was hellish, she'd talked to enough people to know that. Sitting behind a giant steel oven dipping metal parts into powder for hours at a time gave new meaning to the word 'tedious'._

_Jack's gaze settled onto her and an odd smile touched his lips. He was young, probably five or six years her junior and he looked too.....educated to be working here. His intelligent eyes were brown, hair dark blonde with a bit of a wave in it. He was quite nice looking. Samantha was willing to bet women fell all over him. But his smile didn't touch his eyes. And his eyes didn't match the innocence of his face. It was as if he were wearing a mask._

_"I don't mind heat or isolation," he said. His voice was deep and solemn. "I like being alone."_

_"I know what you mean," she answered. "One of the best things about what I do is being left alone. My mom always complains I should talk more, be more friendly. It's hard though. I could go a whole day without saying a thing or seeing another person and be happy."_

_This was true. She was a loner, never comfortable around other people, never sure what to say. Being around others made her feel as if she had to gab mindlessly to keep them entertained, had to feign interest in their stories about their kids, spouse or whatever. It was all too exhausting to bother with. And to be perfectly honest she didn't care for most people. She didn't know why, it was just part of her personality._

_Jack nodded slightly, never looking away from her. His gaze was both unnerving and exciting and Samantha realized with a start there were three other people in the room she had forgotten about, each of them eyeing her and Jack curiously._

_"Ok well, time for me to get to work. Gotta go." The words were meant for everyone but she kept looking at Jack. It was weird how they'd locked onto each other. For a second they had been the only people in the room. Samantha had never had that happen before and it was disconcerting._

_She left, flustered and embarrassed, feeling his eyes on her as she walked away._

_-------------------------------------------------------------_

"Now....about that game." He said, his voice bringing her to the present.

The walls again turned soot-streaked, the light faded, the smell of smoke once again filled her nostrils. She couldn't help but compare herself and Jack to the images of her memory. What had once been so normal looking had turned into _this_.

_Same people. Same room. But not the same._

She took a deep breath, looked at the gun, then at him. "What are the rules?"

"Rules? Oh babe, I don't really believe in 'em. You know that! I figured this was a simple, uh, game of 'you want out but I don't want you out.' Leave it to you to bring up _rules. _But for you I'll make an exception. Check the gun. See what you're working with."

His voice was light and cheerful but his eyes were glacial.

She hesitated and he motioned to it impatiently. Inwardly shaking her head, hardly able to believe she was going along with this, she picked it up and checked the chambers. What she saw sent chills of fear and trepidation through her.

There were two bullets in the gun.

------------------------------------------------------------

**A/N: **The flashback was from my 1-shot "Stranger". Next chapter should be up in the next couple of days.


	21. Negotiations

**CHAPTER TWENTY ONE  
**

_Negotiations  
_

She placed the gun on the table and nodded at him. "Two bullets."

His tongue ran lovingly over his scarred lips. "Mm-hm. And do you know why there's two?"

"I've got a pretty good idea, yeah."

"You know me a little too well, dontcha? Better than anyone else." He clapped his hands together, the cheerful gesture at odds with his devious expression. "So you must be pretty worried right about now. Am I right?"

"The rules," she reminded him, noting the annoyance that flashed across his features.

"The rules," he repeated thoughtfully. "Is that all you care about? You always were so eager to play. So _im-patient._" His eyes glowed with their own hellish eagerness.

"Stop drawing it out."

_Because I need to know what I'm up against here. I need to know if I can get out of here alive._

"But even with all your ah zeal you've always worried about the rules. Why, you could make up your own right now and I wouldn't stop you. In fact I'd be impressed."

"Start telling me before I pick that gun up again," she warned. "Or we can just sit here forever. Doesn't make any difference to me."

That was a lie. She wanted out of the room so badly a part of herself wanted to leap up and bash herself against the walls in a blind panic. Of course that would be the worse thing she could do and so she merely sat there.

_Control. You can control this. And him._

"The keys to this room are in my pocket," he said casually. "So are the keys to your car. It's waiting outside." He looked at the gun pointedly. "All you have to do is show me what you got."

Understanding washed over her and she gaped at him. "You want me to......."

"I sent my guys away," he added. "There's no one to stop you."

"I'm....I'm not going to do that," she breathed, scarcely able to believe he was serious. But he was. She knew it.

"Why not? You hate me. Think I'm a freak. Want away from me. So take the gun and shoot me. Solve all your problems in one fell swoop." He smiled as he said it, his tone gleeful.

"As much as you'd like that I won't do it."

"Then maybe I'll shoot _you_. Does that sound like a winner? And then myself of course. Wonder what Gordon would think about that? Think he'd feel guilty for second guessing you?"

"Stop it." Her hands were shaking and she twisted them in her lap in a futile attempt to still them. "Why are you doing this? I haven't done anything wrong. Why are you....punishing me?"

"Punishing you? Look, I'll be straight with you Sam....I'd rather you not leave. Okay? I mean....what will I do without you? Who will I swap stories with?" His voice softened. "Did you know you're the only person I can trust? Hm?"

"There's no going back for me. You've got to understand that. Not after Glen and now that you've started back up with....what you do." She shook her head. "Don't get me wrong...as sick as it is I don't really want to but I'll end up in a bad place if I go with you."

She wanted to tell him about the dream she'd had in the ambulance but didn't. To tell him would be to expose just how weak he made her, give him more leverage against her.

_And it would turn out that way if you stayed around. He will die or get locked up and if you don't cut him loose you will self-destruct. Don't you think you deserve a little better than dying in an alleyway with a needle in your arm?_

He stood up and circled around the table in her direction. She eyed the gun as he moved nearer but didn't move. He came to a stop behind her. For a moment the room was silent.

"You don't wanna kill me, I don't wanna kill you. I don't want to let you go. You want to go. So now what?"

She stared ahead and shrugged. "Just let me leave Jack. If you feel anything at all for me you'll do that. You know I'll never talk, I'll never say anything about you."

"Oh I know. You're a stand up girl. I'm not worried about that."

He knelt down behind her, so close she could feel his breath on her hair. "Maybe we can work something out. Hm?"

She shut her eyes, dread and excitement building inside of her. "Like?"

He pushed her hair away from the back of her neck. "Nothing too big. If you do them, if you promise to do them, I'll let you out of here without a, um, without a _fuss_. First of all, I'm gonna give you a message to pass along to the Bat. You saw him at Arkham, right? I'll tell you what it is....._later_."

"What's the rest?" She asked, hesitant to agree to anything with him.

"Stay here with me for a little while longer," his mouth was inches from her ear and having him so close was almost painful. "I won't hurt you. It's been a long night and I'm tired. And when you leave I won't bother you but I _will_ find you again."

She stiffened. "What the hell Jack, how can I........"

"Shh shh shh. Listen to me. No matter what you do, no matter where you go I'll always find you. You know that don't you Sam? I'll just want to drop in, check up on you. Say hi." His tone roughened. "For all these years I've kept an eye on you, what makes you think I'm going to stop now?"

"You can't interfere with my life."

"I won't."

One of his hands snaked around to stroke her neck. She spared a glance at the blood-stiffened leather against her skin and tore her eyes away.

_It feels good doesn't it?_

"You can't just show up and destroy things. And don't try to make me come back." She couldn't believe she was agreeing to it. She'd basically just said yes to a very long leash, nothing more.

"Fine. And anyway you know we're not done. Not ever. I don't think you want to be away from me either, not really." His voice was smooth poison in her ear.

"Does it even matter?"

"Yeah. It does." His hand went up to her cheek, back down to her neck, then lower. "You'll get what you want Sam. Your freedom, your car. I'll send some money your way to help you out if you want."

"Money? I wouldn't feel like I've earned it."

His breathing quickened as he touched her. "Oh you'll feel like you've earned it. Trust me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He straightened up, taking his hands off her. "You'll see. One day. Now come sit next to me."

She turned her head, watching as he plopped down on the floor. Saying no would have been the smartest thing to do but instead she sat down next to him, keeping distance between their bodies. Jack stared at her, an odd half-smile on his face.

_A smile of triumph probably. You went from fighting him to sitting next to him on a filthy floor in a locked room. He must be pleased with himself. Always ends up like this doesn't it? You get pissed and damn near want to kill him, then you forgive him in about ten minutes flat. No wonder you two are so intertwined, you both run so hot and cold. Nobody else would put up with either of you for any length of time. _

"You know Sam.....I'm sorry about what happened."

She looked at him in shock. Jack apologizing?

"Okay," she muttered. "Well I didn't mean what I said. I don't hate you. Far from it. And I'm sorry I called you....that word. I'm upset, you know?"

He sighed and stretched languorously. "What I said to you in the woods.....I meant it."

She lifted an eyebrow in surprise. Unsure of how to respond she said the first thing that came to mind. "Uh Jack, if you're angling for a blow job there's easier ways. Really, you don't have to sweet-talk me. Just come out and ask."

It was his turn to look surprised. "What?"

She smiled. "Nevermind."

----------------------------------------------------

Gordon clutched his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"Are you sure it's him?"

"Yeah. He was half in the road leading to Arkham. Nearly got run over. We checked his ID. It's Dominic all right. Damn lucky to be alive. He was able to talk a little but he was in and out. Lifestar got him out of there. Look Gordon, you need to know what he said."

Gordon shut his eyes in dread. "What did he say?"

"Something about Dr. Peloni shooting him and.....and the Joker was waiting on them. He said he was sorry, Sam tried to warn him but it was too late. Sam and Dr. Peloni are both MIA."

"What's the situation at Arkham?"

"Insane. We can't tell the inmates from the doctors, people are roaming around everywhere acting crazy. It's like Dante's Inferno in there. The anonymous caller said they were given angel dust and I believe it. I've seen the effects and the way these people are acting matches it perfectly."

"Wonder how that got into Arkham?" Gordon said sarcastically.

"Catering truck brought Halloween cupcakes. A lot of people ate them. We think that's where it came from."

"Be on the lookout for anyone escaping. I can't afford Arkham patients running loose."

"Sure thing Gordon."

"Goodbye Lieutenant."

He hung up and stared out at the chaos outside Blackgate. Many of the prisoners had been recaptured thanks to Batman, but some were still missing.

Wayne Tower. Blackgate Prison. Arkham Asylum. Gotham Light and Power Building. All in one night. He'd had to call in the National Guards and cops from other cities and counties to help out.

And then there were the smaller disasters. A missing SWAT van. Before the blackout electronic road signs had been tampered with and were flashing messages such as 'CAUTION: BATS AHEAD' 'WARNING: FEAR TOXIN CLOUD IN DOWNTOWN GOTHAM. PLEASE EVACUATE NOW' 'BEST HAHAHALLOWEEN EVER' and 'CLOWNS ATTACK GOTHAM: MAYOR ADVISES CITIZENS TO PANIC AND FLEE'. The signs had already caused several accidents on the interstate.

And now his nephew. He'd have to tell his sister what happened and why he'd given her only son so dangerous an assignment.

No word from the Joker in a few hours. Gordon was sure he would resurface soon, gloating over the mayhem he'd stirred up and taunting the Batman. The man loved attention.

"Damn," Gordon muttered under his breath. He felt old and alone.


	22. Deterioration

**CHAPTER TWENTY TWO  
**

_Deterioration  
_

She came awake with a start and for a moment was unsure of where she was at.

_Oh, the factory. Right._

She glanced over at Jack. He was propped against the wall, sleeping soundly. For the first time she was struck by how dishevelled he looked. Well, more so than usual. His coat was missing a few buttons and smeared with dust and soot, his pants ripped in several places.

_Time to visit your tailor Jack._

Her gaze went to his face, strangely serene in the throes of sleep. Even with the scars and the nightmare of smudged make-up she could see him. Jack. Not much, but enough.

_He's not Jack. Never was. Hell, that's not even his real name. No, he's the Joker. Jack is a figment of your imagination._

Samantha shrugged to herself. It didn't matter who he was. Looking at him made her heart ache and it was hard to keep her distance. Despite it all she wanted him. She wanted the blood and danger and never knowing how far things might go between them. For the millionth time she wondered what was wrong with her to feel so much for someone so malevolent, so lacking in conscience.

_Why? Let's not kid ourselves Sam. You recognized what he was from the start. Did you ever wonder why? Did you ever wonder why you were drawn to him when others instinctively shied away? It's because you have the same.....lapse. That empty space inside. You both fill the spaces up differently but the void is the same. You're amoral, the both of you._

She thought of the keys in his pocket and calculated her chances of getting to them. Small, very small. Jack was a light sleeper, in his line of work he couldn't afford to rest. As soon as she started to move he'd wake up, if he was really even asleep. Her eyes crept to the gun still resting on the table. For a second that silver gleam beckoned to her.

_One fast grab and you're out. You could end it now. You don't have to kill him, just wound him enough to get those keys. Come on....do it._

She started to draw her legs underneath herself, coiling for a quick spring. Her heartbeat escalated, the blood roared through her ears. Her vision and concentration pinpointed onto the gun, excluding everything else.

"You had your chance for that earlier."

_Damnit._

She froze and looked over at him. One eye was half open, examining her shrewdly.

"It was worth a try," she said and slumped back against the wall. "I wouldn't have shot you anyway."

"Yeah, you would've lost your nerve. I told ya I'd let you out of here. I'll keep my word."

He smiled to himself, looked around the room, then back at her. "We're not gonna see each other for a while after tonight are we?"

"No," she answered carefully. "I guess not."

Her only warning was a slight stiffening of his body and by then it was too late. The room whirled as he sprang at her, hauling her to her feet and shoving her facefirst into the wall. His strong hands twisted her wrists behind her back.

"Get your.....fucking hands....off me," she snapped. Her body was numb with shock. Stupid to let her guard down around him....especially under these circumstances. Stupid to forget how quick he was.

"Now now, wait just a _second._ Let me find something."

He chuckled, amused at something known only to him and she heard the familiar sound of him rummaging through his pockets.

_Oh no. This is going to be bad._

She thrashed wildly, trying to gain leverage to get him away.

"Keep doing _that_ and I'll have to get mean. And you know how mean I can be," he told her. His voice had dropped into little more than a guttural snarl. "So just be still."

She complied and stood unmoving, face pressed into the plaster.

A clinking sound. The bite of metal handcuffs over her wrists brought back the blind panic she'd managed to fight back earlier and she resumed her struggling.

Behind her Jack sighed in exasperation. "Pushing your luck........" he mumbled and backed away from her.

_He's gonna get something else out of his pocket. Odds are it'll be nasty._

Taking advantage of the space she whipped around, keeping her head and body in a low slump. Then she stopped, locking eyes with him.

"You done?" He asked. "'Cause if you are we can continue. Keep fighting and you draw things out."

She allowed her shoulders to stoop, gave a slight nod of her head.

"Okay then," he moved back to her, one hand still searching his inside coat pocket. "You know Sam...whatever it is you th......."

She jumped at him, headbutting him in the forehead. It wasn't an ideal hit and it hurt her as much as it did him but under the circumstances it was the best she could do. Her vision darkened for a few seconds and her ears rang. She staggered back to the wall and used it to keep herself from falling.

When her eyes focused she saw that she'd hurt him, at least a little. His forehead was split, a thin trickle of blood her reward. He shook his head like a dog casting off water and smiled at her. His eyes glowed dangerously.

"Nice Sam. Very nice. But what else can you do? Hm? That's about it for your, uh, repetoire isn't it? Not much you can do with your hands cuffed behind you."

"Go to hell."

"Not to worry, I've got plenty of tricks for the both of us."

His hand pulled free of his pocket and produced a black stick about a foot in length. The end he pointed at her sported two brass forks.

The look on her face must have been transparent because he giggled in delight.

"Oh...you don't know what _this _is?" He pushed a button on the handle of the stick and electricity sparked from the forks. "It's a cattle prod."

------------------------------------------

Gordon felt guilty leaving his men but he had to go see Dominic. He was in a coma and his survival was touchy at best. He'd called his sister and let her know what had happened. She wasn't angry at him, not yet anyway. The shock hadn't worn off yet. He dreaded seeing her at the hospital, the accusing looks she would cast his way. Bad enough his marriage was on the rocks, he didn't need to lose his family too.

As he was pulling into the newly rebuilt Gotham General Hospital his phone rang.

"Gordon here."

"Jim, this is Detective Nash. Just wanted to give you an update on Arkham."

"Go ahead."

"Only a few patients confirmed missing at this point. Now most of them are nonviolents but there's a couple who....uh...."

"Just tell me."

"Um Dr. Crane and a guy by the name of Waylon Jones. This guy Jones is real bad. A cannibal with a skin condition. Crane...well you know all about him. The place has been searched, the grounds have been searched. No sign of them yet. Now that's not to say they're not here.....just a heads up."

"If they are out they'll both be easy to identify. No chance of Jones or Crane blending in." Gordon muttered.

"That's exactly what I said. One has scales and the other looks like a pit bull ate part of his face. No, they won't be gone long."

"Let's hope not," Gordon answered.

* * *

**A/N: **Jack sure can fit a lot of stuff in those coat pockets, ha.


	23. Leashes were made to be broken

**A/N: **Some sex type stuff in this chapter.

**CHAPTER TWENTY THREE**

_Leashes were made to be broken_

Samantha's eyes darted from the prod to Jack's face.

_'What are you going to do with that?' _She wanted to ask but she already knew.

His thumb relaxed and the sparks disappeared.

"Nothing to say? That's a first." He taunted, echoing her earlier words to him.

When she didn't respond he rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Come on, aren't you curious? Not even a little?"

She glowered at him but remained steadfastly silent. He'd unveiled his game in its entirety and she knew of nothing in the world she could say that would change anything.

Without warning he jabbed the prod at her leg, pressing the button when it hit her flesh.

"_Ans-wer_."

The jolt wasn't as bad as she'd anticipated but it was enough to take her breath away. She tried to move away but her back was already against the wall.

"See? Not so bad after all." He withdrew the prod and examined it. "There's knob on it so you can control how much juice it puts out. Right now I've got it turned down pretty low." He smiled mischievously. "Wanna go higher?"

"No." She whispered.

"Hm?"

"No." Louder this time around.

He cocked his head curiously. "Aw c'mon, live a little Sam. You've done worse to me...and I liked it."

Something clicked in her head then and she understood. He wasn't doing this _just_ to punish her for wanting to leave. No, nothing was ever that simple with Jack.

She thought of the night he'd snapped his ropes and come at her. The question in his eyes. She hadn't trusted him to have any real control over her since he'd come back as the Joker. If he got carried away the chances of her dying or wishing she were dead were too great. Just a little pain, a little force and then she'd quickly reassert herself. And he had went along with it. Amazing for him. She'd often wondered if he resented her control and lack of compliance.

She supposed she had her answer now.

Jack was a masochist yes....but he'd developed a very keen taste for sadism. She remembered the electric knife incident and could barely contain a shiver.

"I liked it," he continued, slouching towards her. "I wonder if you will too?"

Those blank and pitiless eyes were fixed on her as he closed the distance. He was looking at her as if she were a stranger and that alone was terrifying.

Grasping at her last straw she forced her voice into a cool, confident tone. "No Jack. You will _not _do this. I mean it."

His response was to shock her again.

_So much for that._

"Oh I am," he whispered. "But, you know, I don't want to _force_ you to do anything. It's a lot more...fun to make you want it." He motioned to her with the cattle prod. "By the time I'm done you're gonna be, um, begging for it. You're gonna give this to me _willingly_. Hm?"

He ran the cattle prod over her chest in long, slow strokes. "That extra mile you never wanted to travel? You're gonna go up and down it tonight." He snickered. "You're gonna _run_ it."

The cattle prod slid lower and lower and she shut her eyes.

_This is going to hurt. Oh God this is going to hurt. What made me think I could get out of this easily?_

His body pressed against hers, crushing her into the wall. She instinctively wanted to move to the side, to just get away from him but his voice stopped her.

"If ya move, if ya touch me, if ya try anything cute, I'll cut the juice up and give you a shock in a nice _soft_ spot. And keep your eyes shut. Understand?"

She nodded, wanting more than anything to knee him in the balls. But then what? There was nothing she could do. No way out except to go along.

_Admit it, you've secretly wanted something like this since he came back. That's the fucked up thing....you're scared to death of what he might do but you still want it. You're already getting wet._

He deftly spun her around so she was facefirst against the wall again, pressing against her, suffocating her. Pain shot through her ribs and she gasped.

"Jack," she said, trying to keep her voice strong.

"Not another. fucking. word," he told her in an oddly clipped tone. "Now...I'm gonna take these off and you're gonna do what I tell you, exactly how I tell you to do it. Otherwise......" He left the threat open, allowing her to use her imagination.

He moved away from her a bit. The clink of a key and her wrists were free. For a moment she allowed herself hope that maybe he'd tired of the game.

"Stay where you are and take your clothes off."

She hesitated for a second and heard the sound of electricity crackling. Biting her lip in helpless rage and frustration she did as he said. As soon as she was naked he clamped the handcuffs on her again.

For a while the only sound in the room was his ragged breathing. Even with her eyes closed she could feel his presence behind her, could feel his eyes burning into her.

"Now_ that _is a beautiful sight," he finally said, his voice carrying an edge she didn't care for. "I think I should've done this a long time ago. What do you think?"

"I think...." she began and he hit her upper back with the prod. It was much more painful against bare skin and anger overcame her fear for a moment.

"You fucking bastard," she raged which only earned her another shock. She bit back her words and leaned against the wall.

"You were saying?"

She shook her head mutely.

Something clattered to the floor, hopefully the cattle prod. Then he bore down on her, growling like an animal, hands roving over her body. When he pushed insistently against her hands she could feel how hard he was. A part of her wanted to wrap her hand around him, to push back against him, but she resisted.

His hands traveled around to the front of her body, one hand squeezing her breasts roughly, the other going lower. A moan escaped her when she felt the blood-stiffened leather of his gloves between her legs. The sound seemed to incite him further and he slid a finger inside her, teeth clamping down on her earlobe as he thrust it into her.

Without thinking she grabbed a handful of his coat and vest, trying to pull him closer, desperately wanting him to _just do it_, to go ahead and fuck her.

The hand on her breasts withdrew as he grabbed her by the hair and smacked her head into the wall, not hard enough to do real damage but enough to hurt.

"I told ya," he rasped viciously. "Don't touch me."

She released him, breathing hard.

He pulled away from her, tongue sloshing in his mouth. "You gonna apologize?"

"Sorry." All she wanted was his body on hers again.

"Hm. Sorry? You can do better than that Sam...come on."

"What...what do you want?" She asked.

He uttered a low laugh. "A guy like me can think of a lot of things. For starters you can get on your knees and beg. And keep your eyes shut. Don't look at me."

Before she could react to that he grabbed her by the hair and forced her to her knees. Fear and desire raged within her. He was trying to break her down on their last night together, shedding their usual power struggles for straight up domination. And she _liked_ it. How she'd feel about it later she couldn't say.

_Ok, I know what he wants now. Once I get him in my mouth I'll be able to control everything. Then I can get him to do what I want. I can get off and get out of here in one piece._

The now familiar sound of a switchblade brought those thoughts to an end.

"Don't get too eager Sam," he said, laughter bleeding into his voice. Oh, he knew her well. "We've got plenty of time to play this game."

* * *

**A/N: **Oh the depravity, haha.


	24. The theory and practice of Hell

**A/N: **Thanks to my reviewers, readers and those of you that have sent me PMs.

A little off-topic but I watched "Slumdog Millionaire" and it was such a great movie. The ending made my jaded self cry like a baby. The scenes during the end credits and the way it was done was incredible too.

Okay, enough about that. More depravity for your perusal!

**CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR**

_The theory and practice of Hell_

She steeled herself for the sensation of cold metal on her flesh. Moments passed and nothing happened. His footsteps shuffled directly in front of her.

_He's pacing._

Finally the footsteps came close and stopped in front of her. He was close enough that she could smell the smoke and gasoline on his clothes.

"Did you really think I'd just let you walk out and not say a word about it? Just like that? After everything that's happened? Well I'm _not._"

He stroked her face gently. "Dropped at the first sign of trouble..." He muttered, more to himself than to her and slapped her, the blow almost making her fall over. She held back the furious words dying to come out of her mouth and tried to pacify herself with murderous thoughts.

"Ya know...it isn't just that you're wanting to uh take off. It isn't just that I have to do _this _to you to get what I want. No. No not at all. The worst thing is you think I got Glen after you. Hm? How many times did I tell you I didn't want to kill you, didn't want to hurt you. Over and over and over. You never quite believed me did ya? But as soon as some....some piece of shit runs his mouth to you you're believing _him_. Why is that Sam?"

Samantha said nothing, knowing he didn't expect an answer. The sheer rage in his voice when he mentioned Glen chilled her. She wondered if it had to do with what Glen had done to her or because Jack hadn't seen it coming. She knew that had to bother him. Jack, the man ten steps ahead of everyone else, hadn't _known_ what a simple thug would do. Not only that, Glen had told her about Eric. Glen had made her run.

_He better be glad he's already dead, _she thought. _Because Hell itself wouldn't be able to match what Jack would do to him._

He cupped her chin in his palm and parted her lips with his thumb. She didn't fight it, not wanting to rile him up more than he already was. The thumb slipped into her mouth and she tasted blood and leather. The cold touch of steel came then, a knife's point lazily trailing down her left shoulder.

Goosebumps erupted over her. As afraid as she was, it _still_ wasn't enough to quell the lust. Handcuffed, on her knees and naked in this filthy room and she _still_ wanted to play this game. Well, her body did anyway.

Unconsciously her tongue circled around his thumb and she cringed, hoping he couldn't feel it through the gloves. Evidently he did because he uttered a cold chuckle and pulled his hand away. The knife abruptly dug into her shoulder and she winced in pain.

"Aww, did that hurt? It can get a lot worse. I'm sure I have a potato peeler here _somewhere_. You should see what I can do with one of those...it's a real laugh. You can take the skin and meat right off someone's shin with one, didya know that?"

_Oh Jesus no. No fucking kitchen utensils. No knives. I want out of this. NOW._

"Why don't you open your eyes Sam. I uh changed my mind."

She opened them hesitantly, an optimistic corner of her brain hoping he'd changed his mind about torturing her. No such luck, the knife was poised an inch from her face. And when she saw which knife he was using she wasn't in the least bit surprised. She glanced at her shoulder. Blood was trickling from it but the cut looked shallow.

"What if I slid this blade into your mouth and took your tongue out? Hm?" His voice was cold and speculative. "You'd never be able to say some of the, um, _things_ you've told me. Ever."

Her gaze focused away from the switchblade and onto his face, hoping to see something, _anything _would let her know he was just joking. That it was all just a game and he wouldn't really do those things. But there was nothing. His expression was blank, as if she were just another victim.

_Great, he's disconnected from me and if I talk to get him to come back he'll put one hell of a hurting on me._

"You belong to me. I belong to you. Always been that way, since the first time in _here_," he motioned to the room with the knife, eyes blazing. "No...you're not going anywhere." His voice raised into a terrifying roar. "**YOU UNDERSTAND ME?**"

The blade flashed downward and raked a stinging line down her chest. Samantha tried to move away from him losing her balance in the process. She fell on her side to the floor and lay there, too frozen in shock to move.

The Joker - she couldn't think of him as Jack anymore. Jack was long gone - looked down at her impassively.

"Got something to say? Then....go," he taunted. "Otherwise just lay there and take it."

She ran her tongue over her cracked lips. "Jack....." she whispered, trying to get through to him.

"Last warning to stop calling me _that name_," he snapped, his free hand twitching near his pocket.

She nodded. "Okay. Just stop. Please. We can work something out. I can......"

"Oh we already negotiated," he giggled. "Little late for that."

She started to say something, _anything_, but he held up a hand for her to stop.

"Don't bother Samantha," he crouched down next to her. "It's too late. You gotta play along. No other way out. Hm? Now shut up."

She shook her head helplessly, willing herself not to cry and not to beg.

_Take it. He'll let you go. You have to believe it. The alternative is too bad to think about._

"Now let's move you to a better, ha, position," he said, pulling her up as if she weighed nothing and throwing her face-first onto the table. "Isn't this how you like it Sam? Like a bitch?"

_Oh fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. If I do make it out of this......_

His full weight crushed her onto the table. She could feel him throbbing against her and hated him for the way it made her feel. Her eyes searched the tabletop for the gun but it was gone.

The handcuffs were removed and he grabbed each of her wrists, putting them to her sides.

"Touch me and I kill you." He said and kissed her ear.

A rustling sound behind her as he tore his gloves off and tossed them aside. His hands, rough with callouses, ran over her back, then underneath her. He dug his long jagged nails into her breasts, hard enough to draw blood, then moved them lower. She stiffened as he ran a hand over her and wondered where the knife was at.

"Looks like I haven't been doing a good enough job. You're wet," he sneered. "You're not supposed to be _enjoying_ this. You're just as, uh, sick as I am. Am I right?"

When she remained quiet he put a hand on the back of her neck and squeezed lightly. "Go ahead and answer me."

"I guess so," she replied.

"You _guess_ so? That's hilarious." His hand tightened a little, not enough to choke, but enough to threaten. "I know what's going on in that head of yours Sam....you think I won't be able to contain myself and I'll, um, fuck you and then you'll be able to go. Hm? That what you think?"

The knife was back, unyielding steel making a circular motion on her back as he spoke.

"You might be _partially_ right," he continued. "We're almost done. The thing is...." he paused, clicking his tongue thoughtfully. "I'm not sure if I wanna let you go. They'll use you as leverage, y'know? You'll be an albatross around my neck. Forever. Which makes me wonder if maybe I oughta just keep ya around. Or kill you."

His hand tightened around her throat even more.


	25. Monsters and Men

**CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE**

_Monsters and Men_

_It's a game. That's it. He's pissed, sure, but that isn't all of it. This is something he's been wanting to do, since the factory days. It's just a game. Hang in there. He's fucking with your head. When it comes down to it he's just a man. That's it. Just a man who can't stand the thought of being weak. Nothing more. Don't think too much. Hang in there._

The knife withdrew, the hand on her neck relaxed. He raised off of her but she didn't bother to delude herself with thoughts that he was finished with her.

_Probably fishing for another weapon. Looks like he's gonna use them all on me tonight. Talk about making it count, geez._

Instead he turned her over onto her back. She glanced at him, then just as quickly looked away. That dead stare was too much. Seeing it was painful and horrifying.

_You're just one of _them_ now, _those eyes seemed to say. _And because of that I won't hold back. Not anymore._

She thought of what he'd said earlier: _"We're not gonna see each other for a while after tonight are we?"_

Had that been a test? When she'd answered he'd went straight for her. She thought of him leaning against the wall, looking so peaceful - for him - as he thought of what he'd do to her tonight.

_Maybe he was, maybe he wasn't. Don't overthink his motives Sam. You know better than that. It's all just part of the game._

"Look at me."

Reluctantly she forced herself to look at him again, hoping her stare was non-confrontational and calm. Something told her it was anything but.

"Don't look away," he said quietly. His mood had shifted from crazed to eerily placid. "Hear me?"

"Yeah," she whispered and flinched, wondering if she was even meant to speak.

He lowered himself on top of her and she heard the sound of a zipper.

_Okay, here we go. Almost over. _

He was close, too close, his weight on her, never looking away from her. "We both get what we want." He said and smiled, the expression without malice.

He was inside her in one quick motion and she clenched her fists. This was the part she'd have trouble staying submissive through. She almost wished he'd kept her handcuffed, doing so would probably keep her from being punished more.

_Oh you know that's why he took them off. He knows you too well._

"This was what ya wanted...wasn't it?" He moved slowly, teasing her. She liked it hard and fast and he knew it. "Answer."

"Yes."

He put his mouth to her ear. "Beg for it," he hissed. "Come on, come on. _Do it_."

"I want it," she told him shakily. "Please."

That was true. She did want it, as much as she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing her beg. But there was no other way.

_This has been the longest night of my life. This needs to end....preferably with me still breathing._

"Gonna have to be more convincing than that."

"Please," she looked at the ruined ceiling, glad she didn't have to see his face now. "You know. _You know_. So do it."

"No." He withdrew from her.

"_Yes_," she snapped, throwing caution to the wind. "Come on. Goddamn you, just do it."

"That's it." He muttered approvingly.

_This is _my_ part of the game now,_ she thought. _This is where I take over._

He knew her well but that went both ways. As unfathomable as he was she knew he'd still follow the same pattern when it came to sex.

_Weakness._

Without warning he slammed himself into her and she had to grab the sides of the table.

"Like this?" He rasped, thrusting into her viciously.

She bit her lip, not wanting him to hear how much she was enjoying it.

"What was that? Stop?" He was taunting her but his breath was ragged, his control nearly gone.

"Don't stop," she whispered. "Faster. Please." She moved her body against his, unable to help herself.

That was all the prompting he needed. He pounded into her mercilessly, snarling crazed obscenities into her ear. Without thinking she brought her hands to his back, grabbing onto his coat. When she realized what she was doing she brought them back to her sides, hoping he was too carried away to notice.

"No," he gasped. "Put 'em back."

She did, pulling him close to her. To her surprise he seemed to enjoy it, tangling one hand into her hair as he slammed into her. All reason left her then and she forgot everything that had happened. For a moment it was just _this _and nothing else. No pain, no resentment, no madness and death. Just the way he could make her feel. The pressure was building up inside and she couldn't stop it, didn't want to.

_"I love you, you bastard. Oh my God, I'm gonna come. Fuck me. I hate you. Don't stop. Don't you dare stop."_

She heard herself saying the words and was appalled at how crazy she sounded. Then the feeling washed over her and suddenly it didn't matter. Nothing did. She didn't bother to stifle her scream and was only vaguely aware of his teeth sinking into her flesh as he came too. A few more savage thrusts and he stopped, panting against her skin.

They lay like that, unmoving and tangled together on the tabletop. Then he kissed her and she wanted to hit him. She was done. He'd taken his tithe and now she could go. He _owed_ her now.

_Not that easy._

She tried to push him away, torn between wanting him to leave her alone and wanting him to continue. In response he grasped one of her hands and put it to his face. Feeling his scars underneath her fingers she shuddered, wracked with sadness, love, pity and an inexplicable guilt. It was as if he were reminding her of the truths she knew about him. The grainy video image of him carving his face flashed through her head and she pushed it away. He had chosen this life, he'd made himself into a monster. There was no reason she had to suffer for it.

But still.......

_No second thoughts dumbass. No more Jack. He is what he wants to be. All you can do is go on._

He broke away from her but made no move to get up. "I did mean what I said....out there." He said simply and she gave an inward head-shake. She knew what he was referring to and she didn't believe it, not for a second. The problem was, _he_ seemed to believe it.

On impulse she told him about the dream she'd had in the ambulance. Maybe it was a mistake but she figured maybe, just maybe, it would make him understand.

When she was finished he shrugged.

"It was just the drug Sam. Makes you see things. I should know. Anyway you're stronger than that. You'd be okay."

She wasn't strong, she knew damn well she wasn't. Not right now anyway.

"If you say so." She replied.

"You thought I was gonna kill you. Didn't you?" His eyes were obsidian glints in the lamplight.

"Yeah. And don't bother to deny it, I know it crossed your mind."

He smiled. "Oh it did. But only for a minute. Like I said, what would I do without you? Be all alone, no one to talk to but the Bat? Hm? He doesn't like me too much and he's not a very good listener. Not at all. No, you might leave but at least I know you'll still be _around_."

_And if I'm alive you can always find me, _she thought. He'd always be around, out there somewhere until one of them was dead. Samantha knew that should terrify her. It didn't.

"Remember when I broke out of Arkham and you told me you couldn't place your fate with mine?" He asked quietly.

"Yes. It was already too late though, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," he answered. "Too late for the both of us."


	26. Bolt

**A/N: **Sorry it took forever and a day to update. Had a bad cold and then got distracted by a guy. I got rid of him though (cute but absolutely useless outside of bed) so I should be back on schedule, haha.

Thanks for reading and reviewing. Love you guys!

**CHAPTER TWENTY SIX**

_Bolt_

"So he let you go? Just like that?"

"Yes. Just like that."

Gordon stared at her, trying to find any sign of treachery or malice. Instead he saw resignation and weariness. She'd shown up on the steps of the MCU the morning after Halloween. When he'd arrived she was just _sitting_ there, head bowed against the rain that had begun to fall. Gordon had taken one look at her and taken her to the hospital personally. He didn't trust calling an ambulance, not after what had happened the night before.

And at the hospital he realized the extent of how she'd been made to suffer. Electrical burns. Cuts. Bruises. Marks on her wrists from handcuffs.

And this time she told him everything that had happened. She did it in a flat tone that unnerved him, her expression blank, her pupils pinpointed. She was high, he could tell. Under the circumstances he couldn't really blame her.

She admitted the Joker had tortured her after capturing her outside Arkham. He'd used a cattle prod and knife through most of the attack but had mainly relied on psychological tactics to try and break her. And when he was finished with her he had merely let her go.

"Will Dominic be okay?" Samantha asked suddenly.

"They think so. He might have some speech problems and difficulties walking but the doctors say he should be able to relearn things. But until he comes out of the coma they don't know anything for sure."

She swallowed hard. "So no one's been able to find Dr. Peloni?"

"No. Still gone along with Crane, Waylon Jones and a handful of others."

"Crane." She uttered a strange laugh. "He was roaming around Arkham after everyone went....nuts. He was in Level Four just hanging out like he owned the place. And you know what? He knew me. Knew that I'd been dosed with some of his fear toxin. He said it helped me."

Gordon cocked his head curiously. "Do you think......"

"I don't know. He might have known because of the Joker or Dr. Peloni. It was just strange. You know?"

"We'll put you in protective custody."

Samantha scoffed. "That won't help and you know it Gordon. If any of them want to get to me they will, no matter what. Especially _him_."

Gordon regarded her for a moment and couldn't help but wonder what she'd be like if she'd never gotten involved with the Joker. She looked so _normal_.

_Well she isn't_, he thought to himself. _Normal people don't get mixed up in this type of thing._

"Well you can't leave the city," he said firmly. "I need you around for a while. You're a witness and may have....."

"Valuable information," she finished for him. "I know. I know. What, you think I'm gonna bolt? Where am I going to go?" She offered him a sad smile. "There's nowhere for me to go Jim. Nowhere."

"Anything you need to feel safer," he assured her. "We'll try to do it. Just hang tight for a while. Please."

Her gaze went to the window overlooking Gotham. "What happened last night......this city won't recover for a while. All that chaos."

Gordon chose not to answer. The ramifications of the Joker's actions still hadn't completely sunk in. The city would be on lockdown for a while, the citizens would live in fear and paranoia for years.

And still the newspapers and talking heads pointed fingers at Batman. They blamed him for what Dent had done and in the same breath accused him of not doing enough last night. Never mind he'd singlehandedly caught several maximum security prisoners from Blackgate. Murderers and rapists that would be free and wreaking havoc if it hadn't been for Batman. The man was both reviled and needed. Gordon wondered how the man kept from throwing his hands up and leaving Gotham to its misery.

That reminded him........

"You said you needed to talk to," he cleared his throat. "_Him._"

"Yeah. Your friend. The Joker told me to pass a message to him. Just between them and no one else is to know."

Gordon frowned. "But you know."

Samantha grinned at him but no mirth touched her eyes. "Yes, but I'm just the messenger."

* * *

Vance and Winston watched the boss with wide eyes. The Joker had told them to drive him to the old farmhouse hideout. Once there he'd told them to go out in the woods behind the house and dig up Glen's body. Out of all the crazy things they'd done for him this was by far the craziest. They'd done as they were told though, digging and gagging at the stench. Harold and Jake's body were in the same hole, as well as a dog, and it was a nightmare disentangling the bodies and figuring out which was Glen's after a month in the ground. Vance was finally able to figure it out by the clothes.

And the entire time they dug the boss stood behind them, oddly silent.

When Vance was finally able to drag Glen's body out of the hole the Joker sent them away to wait by the car. As they waited they could hear him muttering under his breath. Then kicking sounds.

"Is he.....doing what I think he's doing?" Winston asked, looking a little green. He'd already puked once.

"Kicking the body. Yeah." Vance answered, trying to sound nonchalant. In all reality he felt horrified. Funny how he'd participated in spreading mayhem in Gotham last night and it hadn't bothered him but _this_ did. What kind of sick fuck would want a body dug up so he could kick it? The guy was already dead, didn't make a bit of sense.

A few more thudding sounds and then they saw the flicker of flames and the silhouette of the boss pacing back and forth like a restless animal. After a couple of minutes a horrid smell filled their nostrils.

"Jesus." Winston moaned, clapping a hand over his nose.

He was burning Glen's body, Vance realized. Not Harold or Jake. Just Glen's.

_What the hell did he do to piss you off?_ He wondered and decided he was better off not knowing.

Within a few minutes the boss appeared from the woods carrying a trash bag. Without a word he pointed at the car and they piled in. On the way back to the warehouse they rolled the windows down to dampen the stench coming from both the Joker and the trash bag.

The entire time the boss sat in the backseat humming, matte black eyes staring out the window. The reek didn't seem to bother him in the least. Vance had always feared his boss but what he felt now went beyond that. He looked in the rearview mirror at the Joker, then his eyes went to the bag sitting next to him.

_Wonder what's in there?_

But he had a good idea. No reason to wonder. He _knew_ and shivered with disgust.

Maybe it was time for him to bolt this city.

* * *

"You have something to tell me?"

They were alone on the rooftop of Gotham City Hall. Samantha stared at the shadowy figure before her and pulled her jacket tightly around her.

_It isn't fair I have to do this. I didn't ask for this. Don't want this knowledge._

But they had a deal, her and Jack. This was part of it. Her long leash had cost her a lot.

"Yeah. I do." She shuffled uncomfortably and glanced around.

"Tell me then." Batman's voice was impossibly gruff, the voice of someone trying hard to disguise his identity.

She looked into his dark eyes, shook her head and stepped close to him. When she was only a foot away she stopped.

"He said to tell you........." she leaned in, painfully aware of his tension. He didn't trust her. And why should he?

She continued, feeling sick. "Why do you think he picked Wayne Tower? He told me to tell you 'Hi Bruce'."


	27. Messengers

**A/N: **A different POV towards the end of this chapter. And yeah I'm making up for lost time!

**CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN**

_Messengers_

Batman's eyes narrowed. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me." Samantha looked out at Gotham's darkening skyline. Her resentment at being made to do this was immense. Jack knew who Batman really was and he'd forced her to know. She'd never be left alone, never be free. Just how he wanted it.

"I have no idea what....."

"Look, don't worry about it. Okay?" She lit a cigarette. "I'm not going to say anything. Believe it or not I'm not one of the bad guys. Look at me." She held her arms out, inviting inspection. "I've suffered too. I swear I won't say anything. I'm just the messenger."

Batman's lips thinned and he turned away from her. "Anything else?"

"No. Just that."

Without another word he slipped over the edge of the building and was gone.

"Always something." Samantha muttered to herself and finished her cigarette.

* * *

"Gather 'round boys." The Joker said to his men, a weird smile on his face.

Vance saw he was carrying the trash bag and cringed inwardly. A few of the men shuffled uneasily at the stink rising from the bag but wisely stayed put.

"So," The Joker stared at them all, one after the other. "We had a little ah incident about a month ago. Glen. Remember him? Don't answer, just nod. Well Glen uh overstepped his bounds and he got killed for it. Unfortunately I didn't get to do the honors, that was left to a dog. But uh anyway I did the next best thing. I went to the old home-place today and got a souvenir."

The Joker reached into the bag and produced Glen's severed head. Vance stared at it, at the boss's purple clad fingers tangled in the dead man's hair. Behind him one of the guys made a retching sound. The odor was damn near unbearable.

"Like it?" The Joker shook the head mockingly and a yellowish fluid dribbled out of Glen's lipless mouth. "I hope you boys like it a _lot_ 'cause Glen here is gonna be living with us. He's gonna be a....messenger. See I'm gonna hang his head up where ever we stay as a reminder not to ever, _ever, _overstep your bounds. Because if you do........" He smacked his lips. "If you do I'll cut your goddamn heads off while you're still alive. With a dull hacksaw. Got it?"

A few of the men murmured their assent and those black shark eyes glittered happily. "That's good. All you guys have to do is your jobs. Nothing else. It isn't hard is it? _No_."

With that he tossed the head down. It rolled a few feet, trailing some kind of vile liquid before coming to rest at one thug's feet. The retcher behind Vance vomited.

The Joker snickered. "Find a nice place to hang Glen up. And you, stop puking before you join him. Hm?"

Yes, Vance decided. The boss had definitely lost his shit. A lot of it had to do with that woman and whatever had happened that had gotten Glen killed. He was mildly curious about the whole thing but he'd never ask anyone about it. And he'd sooner put a bullet in his own head than ask the Joker. The results would be the same anyway.

All he knew was it couldn't keep up this way. If the boss kept getting crazier his guys would leave. Simple as that. Even criminals and nutcases could only take so much.

* * *

The Joker sat in his "office" in his newest hideout and stared unseeingly at his hands. By now Samantha had given the Bat his message. What he wouldn't have given to have been there!

Circumstances made it impossible though. Oh well. There was always more he could do. More reactions. More surprises. Always something.

But now he was bored. That was a problem. The high he'd been riding last night was slowly fading away, replaced with a feeling of _'what now?' _

He hated that feeling. And now he didn't even have anyone to talk to. Sam had run. He could find her, sure, but that wasn't part of the deal.

No, he was supposed to leave her alone. For a while anyway.

The Joker snarled to himself in frustration. Should have never struck any kind of bargain with her. He wanted more, a repeat of the break room maybe, and now he _couldn't_.

He'd _promised_ her. Hilarious.

If he'd killed her last night she'd never leave him again. He'd never have to go through that, seeing those accusing looks from her. The hurt and reproach. Knowing that she couldn't be around him because.......

Because he was a freak.

But the thing was he knew she loved him. She always had, even when he'd showed her what he was. Even after the break room he could still see it in her eyes. It made him envious to a point. To be treated that way and still willing to _forgive. _To _accept_.

When he'd finally let her go she'd paused on her way out the door and looked at him.

"Even after what you've done I still love you," she'd said. "I don't care what any of them say. I'll probably always love you. Why I don't know. It pisses me off but it doesn't make it any less true. But anyway try to remember that. No matter what happens I'll always feel the same."

Those strange eyes of hers searched his for a moment and then she was gone.

_Then why are you leaving?_ He'd thought but left the words unspoken.

No point in getting all sentimental about it though. He'd find her soon enough and they'd repeat their endless circling. It would never end, not until one of them was dead. He'd see to it. One thing Sam never understood was how committed he was. He was the type of guy that when he decided on something it _would_ happen. When he made a decision it was irrevocable. And he'd made the decision long ago that he'd never let her go. Not completely.

He couldn't help it. She was one hell of a woman. Why would he let some ordinary fool snatch her up and make off with her when he could have her to himself? Too bad she wasn't more agreeable to his lifestyle but you couldn't have it all could you?

His thoughts abruptly shifted to Dr. Crane. He was out there somewhere, probably skulking around wondering how he could even the score over his face. If he knew about Samantha there could be a _slight_ problem.

Leverage.

That word again. Leverage. He hated it. And that's exactly what she was. Once people knew about her the floodgates would open. The Bat and Gordon already knew but they were the "good guys" and wouldn't hurt her. But once people like Crane and Zsasz and whoever else that wanted to be a pain in the ass got wind of her.........

He sighed and sucked on the insides of his cheeks in annoyance. Oddly enough he was starting to feel a little jealous of Glen's severed head. At least it didn't have to think. All it had to do was hang over a doorway and scare goons.

"Always something," he growled to himself. "Isn't it?"


	28. Lunatic fringe

**CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT**

_Lunatic fringe_

Alfred studied Master Wayne surreptitiously. The younger man hadn't said a word all morning, barely eating his breakfast and staring at the tv morosely. Alfred had entertained the notion of asking him what was wrong but felt it redundant. Of course he knew what was wrong. It was what had happened on Halloween night. It was the damnable newscasters. It was the Joker. It was _Gotham_.

He got up and began to clear the table, still keeping a watchful eye on Bruce. He was just heading for the kitchen when Bruce's voice stopped him.

"He knows who I am Alfred. _He knows_."

The butler turned to his charge, head inclined. "Who knows Master Wayne?"

"Him. That _psychopath_. The Joker. He sent me a message. Wayne Tower was no random act. He did it on purpose." Bruce sighed and put his hands to his gaunt face. "He knows Batman's true identity and now.....I don't know what to do."

Alfred stared at Bruce a moment, digesting this bit of information.

"Master Wayne if you're worried about him going public.....it's your word against his. He's a madman. You're the richest man in Gotham. What proof does he have?"

"That's just it. I don't know."

"Well you remember what he did when that Coleman Reese fellow was about to divulge your identity. I wouldn't worry about him going public. I think he'll keep the knowledge all to himself. Leverage."

"I know," Bruce answered wearily. "And that means you're in danger. Lucius too. Anyone that's close to me."

Alfred smiled reassuringly, although he didn't feel as confident as he looked. "Mr. Fox and I can take care of ourselves Master Wayne. Your worry should be spent on more important things."

* * *

"Boss, someone has been snooping around her motel room. We think."

"Think? Or know? There's a difference."

The thug shuffled his feet under the Joker's flat stare. "Uh....."

The Joker looked at the other thug. "What's going on?"

"There's a couple of cars that take shifts. Old model Camry during the day, then at night it leaves and a Suburban takes its place."

"Could be the cops keeping an eye on her."

The goon shook his head, avoiding eye contact with his boss. "Don't think so. They don't look like 'em anyway. Look like somebody's hires to me."

"I've seen cops patrolling around," the other man said. "The guys in the Camry and Suburban ain't cops."

The Joker cocked his head, a little smile spreading across his face. "You haven't noticed anyone, ah, _strange_ in the cars have you? Someone with a messed up face or wearing a hood?"

The men looked at each other and shrugged.

"No." They said in unison.

"Well keep watching her. Anything, uh, anything funny happens let me know. Fast."

The thugs nodded and started to edge their way out of the room.

"Oh one other thing guys."

They stopped cold.

"Does she ever leave her room?" His tone was almost plaintative and it gave them the creeps. "Have you seen her?"

They glanced at each other again, barely able to conceal their bewilderment.

"We've seen her once," one of them said. "For a few seconds. She's staying put."

An odd sigh. "Get out."

They left the warehouse, trying not to look at Glen's head on their way out.

* * *

Samantha sat on the tiny bed and half-watched the news. It was all about Halloween night, she had a feeling a week from now they'd still be talking about it.

She had to hand it to Jack....he sure could stir up trouble. And he could plan. Layers and layers of plans. One for every scenario. He had a predatory instinct for being a step ahead of everyone, of being able to anticipate what people would do before they themselves even knew.

Including her, she supposed.

She laid back on the bed and surveyed the room Gordon had provided for her. A mid level motel room, neither showy or seedy. Obligatory tacky paintings on the wall and hideous bedcovers but clean and with a refrigerator and microwave. And most importantly Gordon had his men keeping an eye on her.

_Hope they're some of his more trustworthy ones_, her mind snickered and she put that thought out of her head.

Soon it would be time to leave. Leave Gotham and Gordon's scrutiny. And Jack. She'd bolt the city, to Florida maybe. Her dad was out of jail, she could go stay with him for a while.

_Sure that's such a good idea? People have a way of getting dead or hurt around you. Shall we go over the roster? Brian, Eric, Dominic. Hell a dog can't even be safe around you. Poor Alex. You really want to drag your dad into this and maybe get him killed too?_

She gnawed a thumbnail and reached for her bottle of painkillers on the nightstand. Courtesy of Jack of course. World's worst enabler.

"I miss him already." She said to herself and laughed humorlessly. It was sick and oh so true. Her sleep - what little she got anymore - was filled with dreams of feverish sex and a kind of brutal longing.

Flashes of being terrorized in the break room and enjoying it.

_I can hurt him. If I can hurt him that means he feels something._

Flashes of years ago and seeing his face in the darkness of her bedroom and how he used to look at her. Of wanting more and more of him. Sex and yearning and an unspoken understanding between them.

"I did the right thing," she said to the empty room. "I had to."

She nodded to herself, turned the tv off and tried to go to sleep.

* * *

"I need to have a little chat with her. Obviously I can't go to her door and expect her to open it for me. She knows who I am."

"What do you expect me to do about it?"

The two men stood casually in a back alley not far from Samantha's motel room. The night was deathly cold and sleet had begun to pelt down on them but Crane didn't seem to notice.

"You're the police. She'll open up for you. I've been having her watched. She's always alone. The only thing you have to worry about are the other cops Gordon has watching her."

Detective Nash looked at Dr. Crane dubiously. "Yeah she'll probably open the door for me. She's met me. And the other cops I can handle. They're not around much anyway. But know this: I ain't gonna kidnap her for you so don't even ask. I'm not gonna risk getting caught. Do you know what would happen to me at Blackgate?"

"Did I ask? No, you get her to open the door, give me a way in and I'll take care of the rest. And I assure you, you will be taken care of for your cooperation. You used to work for Falcone, correct?"

"Well....yeah. Before he went crazy."

Dr. Crane smiled, the motion pulling the scars on his face taut. Nash found it hard to look at him, it reminded him exactly why he wanted nothing to do with any plots that involved the Joker.

His point made, Crane continued. "As I said: just a little chat with her."

Nash hoped Crane wasn't going to try and find the Joker. He was sure the doctor held a grudge over being attacked but he'd be better off to let it go. He wondered again why the Joker came after Crane in the first place and just as quickly let it go. The Joker was a head case. He probably did it out of boredom.

"I'll do it but I expect to be paid well. And if you're not gonna kill her then she'll know about me. That _can't_ happen. Catch my meaning?"

Crane's one blue eye gleamed in cool amusement. "Of course Detective."


	29. Freaktown

**CHAPTER TWENTY NINE**

_Freaktown_

"Hey Samantha, let me in. This is important."

Samantha stood on the other side of her motel room and eyed the door suspiciously.

"Umm, nope," she answered, gripping the butt of her revolver. "Tell me through the door. Sorry but I don't open up for anyone but Gordon."

An impatient snort. "You know who I am. Detective Nash! Remember me?

"Yeah but I'm still not letting you in. Tell you what, how about I call Gordon? You know, to make sure this little visit of yours is on the up and up."

Dr. Crane let out a frustrated hiss and Nash glared at him.

"He doesn't know but go ahead," Nash answered. "All I wanted to do is warn you about some strange men hanging around the motel. We think they might be the Joker's guys. When you call him be sure and tell him, okay?"

"Sure thing." She didn't sound like she believed him.

"Hey I tried," Nash told Crane as they walked away. "So she's not dumb. What do you want from me?"

"I want _results. _You should have had the phone line to her room cut before we came. You should.........."

"Look," Nash spun around at the smaller man. "You were the one in a big rush to get to her. See where rushing gets you? If you want my opinion you should let this be. Come to think of it the clown probably _is_ having her watched. Do you really want him back on you? Do you? Because I don't."

"He won't do anything to me. Our score is settled," Crane answered arrogantly. "He and I are old friends."

"Oh...._okay. _That changes everything. That guy doesn't have friends and he'd kill you in a second if you piss him off. Don't be an idiot."

Crane shrugged, the gesture elegant and completely at odds with his mutilated face. "You don't understand Detective. Of course someone like _you_ wouldn't. But it's fine. I'll take care of this another way. She can't hide in there forever. Consider yourself dismissed from this job."

"I better still get my payment."

"As promised," the doctor assured him. "And I trust you'll keep quiet about this, right _Detective_?"

Crane offered him a patronizing smile and then ambled off into the night.

"Gotham is turning into a goddamn freaktown." Nash muttered to himself as he watched the doctor's figure recede.

* * *

Not far away eyes watched the two men intently. When Crane walked away the Joker giggled.

"Ya look a little...disheartened," he taunted. "Plans not work out?"

Of course they couldn't hear him but he felt the need to gloat. Actually they should be happy, because if they'd made it into Sam's room things would have gotten messy. Quite messy.

Crane was too eager, he decided. And the cop, all he wanted was money. They were both too wrapped up in their own little worlds to notice their every move was being scrutinized.

The cop stood in the motel's parking lot for a minute, staring after Crane. The Joker's eyes scanned the area for a moment. No one around.

"Get him," he looked at his two thugs and jerked his thumb at the cop. "We're gonna take him for a little, um, ride."

They obeyed, slipping out of the sedan quietly and making their way to the cop under cover of shadows. By the time he knew he was in danger it was too late, one of the thugs had hit him over the head and taken his service gun.

They pulled him, stunned but still cursing furiously, to the car and threw him in the backseat with the Joker.

"Let's go home." The Joker told the man driving, smirking at the word _home, _and they were off.

He turned to regard Nash, who was looking at him with dread and revulsion on his face.

"Sooo Detective," he said pleasantly. "Been busy tonight? Hm? 'Cause I've been watching you with your, ah, friend." He leaned in closer, smiling. He knew the effect it had on people and this cop was no exception. The man cringed without seeming to realize it.

"You know....you shouldn't associate with people like that," the Joker continued. "They'll get you in trouble. Lots and lots of...._trouble_."

Detective Nash stared at him, saying nothing. It was sinking in, the Joker figured. He was coming to the realization that he was well and truly fucked. Any second now he'd start the begging and wheedling, trying to wriggle out of his fate. And that was the best part. Well, one of the best parts.

He needed some fun. Some release. When he got him back to the warehouse he'd take his time with him. And in the end he'd find out why Scarecrow was skulking around Sam's motel and he'd get the enjoyment of inflicting pain. When he was torturing someone he could see himself reflected in their faces. How everyone saw him. The truth of it all after all these years. He used to wonder what they saw when they looked at him but after the incident the question was answered. Yes he was a monster and a freak and yes he _liked_ it. All those emotions flitting through their glassy eyes, the pleas dying in their bloody mouths like so many hollow promises. Ah, the glorious chaos of knowing you would die and knowing you could do nothing to stop it.

He'd felt that way himself.

Yes he liked it. He savored it. It got him hard, although he'd never admit it to anyone, could barely admit it to himself. Sam knew though. It infuriated him that she'd figured it out. Those strange green-yellow eyes looking at him serenely. _I know exactly what you are._

He supposed that was one of the reasons she was currently holed up in a motel room and not with him. Understandable. He was not an unreasonable man. Didn't stop him from wanting to break the door down and talking some sense into her. As if that would work. Not only was she stubborn but she resisted control. Always had been that way.

He thought of the night he'd broken into her house and how she'd slapped him.

Why had she done it? He frowned, trying to remember. Oh, right. After he'd cut himself she'd went to his house looking for him. Of course she didn't find him, but she did blunder across his tools. And she'd broken down crying, with him watching her the whole time, unbeknownst to her. She'd been furious when she found out.

He grinned to himself.

"Look," the cop said. "I don't know much. If you promise to let me go I'll tell you what I do know."

The Joker looked over at him, annoyed at having his thoughts interrupted. "I know you'll tell. Believe me, I'm not worried about it. Not at all. You'll tell me everything and probably make up a few, um, lies too. Just to make it stop."

He licked his lips, tongue lingering on the corners of his mouth where his scars began. Bad habit he knew but they just felt so damn _good_ underneath his tongue. Foreign yet familiar. It took them forever to heal for the mere fact he simply couldn't leave them alone. For some reason this made him think of Samantha and doing certain....things to her. This irritated him and he narrowed his eyes at Nash, trying to keep himself on the task at hand.

Nash squirmed closer to the door, obviously wanting to jump out of the car. The Joker couldn't believe he was just now thinking of doing it.

"Ah ah ah, don't you move," he admonished. "I bet I'm a little, uh, faster than you." He lowered his voice, as if sharing a secret with a friend. "If ya move, if I even see your hand get close to that door handle I'll do something to you that you won't like. And that's a promise. So just enjoy the ride. Hm? It's almost over."

Nash seemed to deflate, his body going limp, his eyes dulling.

_Ah there it is. There went the hope. That never gets old!_

Maybe tonight, when he was done with Nash, he'd be able to conk out. Never big on sleep, he'd found it even harder to come by since she'd left.

_Her again_. He bet she was sleeping like a baby. Probably all pilled up and dreaming of who the fuck even knew what. She'd always slept like the dead and it had always made him envious.

_Here's an idea. Stop thinking about her. Let her cower in her little room. She'll be back. She'll always be back. Until then do what you do best. Starting with this cop._

He nodded to himself. Best idea he'd had all night.


	30. No show

**A/N: **In the comics Detective Nash was Anna Ramirez's replacement. Whatever happened to her anyway? She got slugged by Harvey and then I *think* I saw her in the scene where Gordon destroys the Bat-Signal. Hm. Oh well.

Oh and to the person who wanted to know: I'm sure Glen's head would be dripping all manner of vile shit all over everything and everyone, haha. I mean, he's hung over a doorway. Yeah.....wear a hat going through _that_ door.

Thanks to my reviewers and readers. Love y'all. No really, I do.

**CHAPTER THIRTY**

_No show_

"He said _what_? Well why the hell hasn't he notified me?" Gordon sounded angry. "Just sit tight Sam, I'll send a few units by to check things out. Don't leave your room."

"Don't worry," she glanced out the window. "I think he was lying Gordon. Seemed to me like he just wanted me to open the door. After I said I was going to call you he left in a hurry."

"Well to be honest the whole thing is a little strange. Don't worry about it, okay? I'll send some of my best over. You need them to get you anything? Food? I can arrange it."

"No, I'm fine. Got some chips and Cokes here. Thanks though."

As she hung up the phone she knew she was going to have to leave Gotham, and soon. She thought of the money she had stashed away and smiled. Enough to get to Florida and live comfortably. Jack had lived up to his promise on that at least. And anyway, she had _earned_ that money. All she had to do was get to her car, parked a safe distance away from the motel, without being spotted by Gordon's men or anyone else. Tonight was out of the question. But soon. Very soon.

Instinct told her Nash hadn't come by at Jack's behest. No, it was probably for Crane or any number of enemies Jack had. Word had gotten around.

She was leverage.

* * *

"_Stop it_. Oh my God _stop_."

"Aw c'mon...we just started. Hm? I've still got this, uh, icepick I haven't used yet. Oh and the vice, can't forget the vice."

"I told....told you what I know." Nash sputtered through a mouthful of blood. Four of his teeth were gone, yanked out by a pair of rusty pliers, and he couldn't spit the blood out fast enough. A lot of it merely ran down the back of his throat, into his stomach and lungs. And the pain......

He'd passed out at one point and had been relieved to feel himself going under. Then the Joker had pulled out the smelling salts and brought him back. No escape from this. Only death.

The Joker glanced over at Vance, who was standing a safe distance away, eyes downcast.

"Hand me a hammer," he ordered and the thug dug around in the large toolbox in the room for a few seconds before finding one and handing it to him.

He hefted the hammer's weight in his hand, swinging it to and fro, staring down at Nash. He was bound to a chair but there was no need for it anymore. The guy was like a whipped dog. Total capitulation. To be honest he was getting a little boring. He knew everything he needed to know. Of course it was Scarecrow wanting to get to Sam to get back at him.....same old unoriginal stuff. It just went on and on and on.

"Maybe I'll skip the vice," he murmured to himself and pulled the icepick from his coat pocket. "I'll just, hm, cut to the chase so to speak. That okay with you Mr. Nash?"

He raised an eyebrow at the man, as if he really expected an answer. Nash only offered a blubbering sigh in response.

Emitting a short laugh the Joker put the icepick to Nash's temple, then used the hammer to pound on the end like a chisel. It didn't work too well, the cop's head kept lolling to the side.

"Come here and hold his head." He told Vance. The goon stared at him for a second, glassy-eyed with disgust and fear. He didn't want to do it, the Joker knew. That was okay, he didn't care about the guy's personal feelings as long as he _did_ it.

Vance shuffled over, gripping Nash's hair tightly and staring at the wall.

The Joker started again and this time it worked nicely. Nash mumbled and squirmed feebly as the icepick sank into his skull but for the most part he was docile. He could feel his breath getting shorter, his heart beating faster and spared a quick look at Vance. It wouldn't do to have him see how this affected him, even guys like him had some sort of reputation to uphold. But Vance still stared at the wall blankly.

Eventually the entire length of the icepick was buried in Nash's head and the man still lived.

"Will ya look at that," the Joker muttered. "He must be tough, or just not have enough brains for this to make a difference."

Vance uttered an obediant laugh. His eyes never left the wall.

He regarded the cop and suddenly just wanted to kill him so he could go to his office, finish himself off to thoughts of blood, pain and Sam and call it a night. Suddenly he was just _tired_.

He wrapped his hands around Nash's throat and began to squeeze. It didn't take long with the shape he was already in. As he watched the life fade from the cop's eyes he realized his breath was coming in excited hitches and starts. He brought his gaze to Vance's face, wondering if the other man had noticed.

Vance's face was turned away, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. The Joker regarded him coldly.

_I oughta get rid of him. He's weak. And maybe he figured me out just now. Nah, he's not that smart. Anyway I'm too tired to bother with him tonight._

Tomorrow maybe. When guys acted like that, skittish and conscience-ridden, it was time to put them down. He didn't need a mutiny or attempts to take him out. It could be interesting, sure, but he had enough going on right now.

"We'll get rid of the body tomorrow," he told Vance. "He's not going anywhere."

Vance nodded, finally making eye contact.

The Joker sized him up, locking eyes with the thug until the other man lost his nerve and looked away. Then he left, leaving Vance alone with Nash's body.

* * *

"Nash is missing."

"Why is that not too surprising to me?" Samantha tried to sound nonchalant but her fingers curled tightly around the telephone.

"He hasn't been seen since yesterday, right before he came to your door."

"I don't know anything, in case you're working your way to asking," she bristled.

Gordon sighed. "I wasn't going to say anything. I'm just calling to let you know. Anyway, as a result of him being gone I'm stepping up security around your room."

_Great. I'm never gonna get out of here._

"You think maybe uh someone got to him? Someone we both know?" She asked carefully, unwilling to mention Jack specifically.

"That's what we think yeah. But who knows. Nash liked to drink, maybe he just went on a bender. All we know is he was a no show at the MCU last night and he's not home. His phone goes straight to voicemail. All in all it doesn't look good."

_If Jack did get to him we'll all know soon enough. He won't hide it. He'll make sure Nash is found. He'll parade him. And if Jack did get to him then you'll know Nash was up to something yesterday._

"How long is this going to go on?" She asked wearily.

A long pause. Then: "As long as it takes Sam. We can't let you run loose and you know it. We need you. I'm sorry."

She was barely able to contain a snort. They _needed_ her? She was useless to them. Except as bait.

_And I _will_ be running loose Gordon. With any luck you'll never have to see me again._


	31. Acquisitions

**CHAPTER THIRTY ONE**

_Acquisitions_

"Ha, I knew it," Samantha said to the television for the third time that day. "He paraded him."

A day after he'd went missing Nash's body had turned up on the steps of the MCU. Not surprisingly he had a Joker card stuck into his chest with a pen knife and a dead rat shoved in his mouth. Reports said he'd been tortured - they didn't say how - and finally strangled to death.

That had been yesterday and the frenzy was still going on. A cop killed in such a way....it brought outrage. And more fear. Citizens thought: _If he can do that to a cop then what chance do I have?_

It was definitely time to get out of the city. Her meager belongings were already packed, along with her money.

_Now is the time. While Gordon and his men are distracted by Nash's murder. They won't be around as much._

She peeked out the window. No one there. The sky was just beginning to darken. She wondered if leaving during the day might be safer but decided it didn't matter. Under the cover of night she'd be less noticeable.

"Let's go." She whispered to herself.

* * *

_Easy. Easy. Just a little further._

Samantha pulled her jacket around her tightly and stuck to the outer limits of the parking lot. Her Barracuda was in sight, its worn green paint welcoming her.

A few more feet and she was almost there. Clutching her revolver in one hand and her duffel bag in another she moved a little faster, trying not to get in a rush but unable to help herself.

_Freedom from all this bullshit. And warm weather. No more freezing my ass off through Gotham winters. Florida here I come._

Three feet away and she heard someone coming up behind her fast. Impossibly heavy footsteps and a low grunting exhalation, more animal than human. She pivoted to face her pursuer and upon seeing him fired her gun. The shot went wild, missing her target completely.

_Oh my God. That's not a man. Can't be. No way._

It snarled and swung a massive fist back. She fired again, this time hitting him in the upper arm.

"Don't you dare hit her too hard," said a mild voice from out of her line of sight. "I'd hate to have her dead this fast."

Then the wind was knocked out of her, the pavement rushing up to meet her as she fell.

* * *

"She hurt me. Shot me in the arm. Hurts bad." The voice was peculiar, a guttural whine.

"I'll give you a shot of morphine, okay? You did a good job tonight Waylon." The voice from the shadows. Familiar somehow.

She opened her eyes, frowning at the smell in her nostrils. Fetid and damp. When her vision focused she saw that she was sitting on the floor in a block room. One bare lightbulb dangled from the ceiling and she had the feeling she was underground. The sound of dripping water was the only sound aside from the men's voices.

Her hands were bound behind her back with plastic ties and she almost growled in frustration.

_Why the fuck do I always end up like this lately?_

"Oh look, she's up."

_Crane's voice. Should have known. But who's his friend?_

The two men moved closer to her, affording her a better view. One was unmistakeably Dr. Crane but the other......

She recognized him as the one who had come after her. Now that she had a better look at him she couldn't help but shudder. He was immense and broad shouldered, like a weight lifter, but that wasn't what bothered her. No, the worst part were the tiny greenish scales that seemed to cover every exposed inch of skin. He was clad only in the bottom part of a tattered and filthy Arkham inmate's uniform. In the low light his eyes had an inhuman yellowish glow and she thought she detected vertical pupils.

_Like a cat or a crocodile._

"You," the monstrous thing grumbled. "You shot me." He pointed at her accusingly, revealing long filthy claws sprouting from his hands. Cut shackles dangled from each wrist.

"I'm sorry?" She whispered through dry lips, unable to stop staring at him.

"Don't mind him, he's sensitive about being hurt," Crane interjected. "He was treated so badly at Arkham."

"Shocked all the time." The monster agreed.

"I suppose I should introduce him. Waylon Jones. Didn't you see him during your little adventure through Level Four?"

She remembered then. Samantha hadn't seen him but Dominic had.

"Atavism," she said softly. "Genetic throwback. Likes to eat people. Nice to meet you Mr. Jones."

Crane chuckled and Waylon cocked his head like a befuddled dog.

"Why doesn't she scream?" He asked Crane.

"Why would she? See she's been......_associating _with the Joker for quite some time now. Safe to assume she doesn't frighten easily at this point. Plus she's had my fear toxin. It helped her."

"Joker huh? He's crazy. Bad person. Crr-azzzyy."

Samantha found it amusing a half-human cannibal would consider the Joker a bad person - and crazy to boot - but kept her expression carefully neutral.

"You know Samantha, don't you Waylon?"

"Uh-huh. Saw her for a moment when I was at Arkham. A girl. Don't see many. Girls are good. You're pretty you know." He grinned lasciviously, revealing a nightmarish mouthful of teeth.

_Oh you've got to be kidding me._

"Not going to ask why you're here?" Crane queried, kneeling down to bring himself to her level.

"I was thinking of it but I think I've already got a good idea."

"Oh I'm sure you do. And you'd be correct. I don't know if you realize this Sam but you've got a rather large bullseye on your back now."

"Oh I know." She muttered.

"And after what he did to me at Arkham. Can you imagine how horrible it is to be forced to disfigure yourself? He turned me into a freak. He took one of my eyes and....."

"Look what you did to _him_." She hissed, unable to take anymore of the doctor's self-pity.

"I did my _job_ with him. That was his fault," Crane brought his mangled face closer to hers. "And a lot of it was _your_ fault too. Am I right? If it hadn't been for you he wouldn't have been so sloppy. Would have never gotten caught."

Samantha didn't answer and Crane smiled in satisfaction. He was right of course. Jack had gotten careless when he'd stolen from Patterson and it had been because of her. She'd wondered many times what might have happened if she'd never met him or offered him a ride at the factory.

"Now," Crane continued. "All I want is a certain degree of....satisfaction. The Joker is a hard man to get near and even harder to actually hurt. So....you're all I've got. Makes sense doesn't it?"

"No, not really."

"If I do something to you, and before you ask I've got several ideas, then it'll infuriate him. He seems to be under the impression he has a certain degree of ownership over you. Although to be honest I don't see it. I think you'll end up playing him for a fool and bringing him down."

"Then why not just let me do that and leave me alone? There's how you can get back at him."

Crane ignored her. "As I was saying....if he thinks he owns you and I take you and do....things to you it'll be the next best thing to hurting him."

"Uh-huh." Waylon agreed, nodding his misshapen head.

_I think you're just too chicken to come after him personally. _

" Aren't you worried he might come after you?" She asked.

"Hardly," Crane scoffed. "And if he does...I'll take care of it. One way or the other."

"How? Running away to another country? Plastic surgery?"

Crane's blue eye glared at her. "Keep running that mouth of yours. I'm sure you think it helps."

Actually she knew better but there was little else she could do and she damn sure wasn't going to feed his ego by crying and grovelling. She had faced Jack's wrath, had navigated his violence and still come out with control. Crane was nothing. Waylon on the other hand.....

"Can I get my medicine now?" Waylon asked plaintively.

"Sure," Crane answered shortly. "And maybe....just maybe when this is all over I'll let you have her. You'd like to have a girl wouldn't you Waylon? Didn't you say they taste better than men?"

"Uh-huh," Waylon licked his pointed teeth. "Softer."

Crane winked at her and she shuddered again.

* * *

**A/N: **Waylon Jones is Killer Croc btw, if anyone is familar with him. I hated him in the Arkham Asylum game but he looked badass.

It's kind of funny Sam wonders what would have happened if she'd never offered Jack a ride. Yeah, that was "Irredeemable" LOL. She offered but he turned her down. So really no matter what happens he still ends up the same.


	32. Infernal guardians

**A/N: **Thanks for reading, reviewing, etc!

**CHAPTER THIRTY TWO**

_Infernal guardians_

Samantha shook her hands to get the feeling back into them. Crane had finally taken the flex cuffs off her before he left on some unknown errand, knowing she wouldn't pose an escape risk with Waylon keeping an eye on her.

Waylon milled around the doorway to her cell, occasionally glancing over a broad shoulder at her. She'd heard Crane tell him not to talk to her while he was away but she could tell he wanted to.

She'd been paying a lot of attention to the two men and their interactions. Crane was definitely the dominant one but only through virtue of his brains. Waylon was oddly cowed by the other man, as eager to please and tremulous as a whipped dog.

That gave her ideas. Why would a seven foot tall monstrosity like Jones follow a little creep like Crane?

"We're in the sewers aren't we?" She asked Waylon.

He hesitated a moment, then: "Mm-hm. This is where I stay."

She wanted to ask him where Dr. Crane had went but decided not to right then.

"Well, it's warmer here than outside," she said lamely. "I guess it's the steam?"

"No one can see me down here. And water. I like the water." He moved his bulk into the room.

"You like to swim?"

"Uh-huh. I can swim really good." Waylon uttered a strange laugh. "Catch things good."

"What are you two going to do after you kill me?" She asked boldly. "Stay down here?"

He snorted angrily. "Crane wants to go back to _that place_. Arkham. Tells me I have to go too. Don't want to."

_Bingo. Something I can use._

"I'd rather stay here than Arkham," she offered. "I've been in Arkham and it is a bad place. Very bad. Here you can be free, you know? Not locked up and stared at."

He moved closer, yellow eyes fixed on her intently. "And shocked. No shocks here unless I make Crane mad." He indicated a metal collar around his neck that she hadn't yet noticed.

"He makes you wear a shock collar?" She was beginning to feel sorry for him.

"Uh-huh. For my own good. When I get carried away he shocks me with this thing he carries. Hurts but he doesn't do it a lot." Waylon paused and cocked his massive head thoughtfully. "He treated me before he got in trouble so he knows best."

_That explains a lot of the pull Crane has over him._

"He might not kill you," Waylon said abruptly. "He might leave you alive."

"That doesn't make me feel any better."

He shrugged and took a few steps closer to her. She was acutely aware of how huge he was, especially with her sitting on the floor. His presence was almost panic inducing.

"Did I hit you hard?" He asked.

"Well, hard enough to knock me out. My head is pretty sore but I'm used to it."

"Because of the Joker you're used to it. Told you....he's no good."

_A little sharper than you let on eh Waylon?_

She smiled. "Yes. I'm sorry I shot you by the way. You startled me."

He knelt down and she felt herself shrink against the wall. She couldn't help it. His smell was _bad_, rotten meat and wild animal. Yellowed teeth, sharp as any beast's, emerged from a seemingly lipless mouth.

"Crane doesn't like you very much," he rumbled. "But you seem okay to me. Not screaming and making me feel bad. Nice."

"Does that mean you won't eat me?" She joked weakly.

He smiled and ropes of saliva trickled down his chin.

* * *

The men milled around the tunnel opening. It was set in a hillside not far from Sam's motel and was marred with graffitti and empty beer cans. Rats squeaked somewhere in the tunnel's darkness. No one was willing to go in but pretty soon the boss would insist on it and they'd have no choice.

"So, you saw them go in this way, right?" The Joker asked one of the goons.

The goon, Phil, nodded his head vigorously. "Yep. Crane and the woman and some big scary looking motherfucker."

"Um, did he look like he had....scales?"

"Come to think of it sorta. I mean it was dark but something didn't look right with him."

"The Croc," the boss snickered to himself. "No wonder why Crane brought her here. I guess after losing Nash he had to come up with a different idea."

The Joker glanced around casually. The whole thing was awfully obvious. The van Scarecrow had used to transport Sam was parked nearby and the entrance he used to get into the sewer was too conspicuous. There were too many hidden routes into Gotham's sewers nearby yet he used this way.

When Phil had called him and told him about Crane getting Sam he'd almost...._almost_....disregarded the whole thing. That had lasted maybe twenty seconds, much to his annoyance. He couldn't ignore it. He tried to chalk it up to curiosity as to what Crane was doing but it was more than that.

And here he was when he had other things to do.

_Ah Sam, why did I take that ride with you? I can trace it all to that one damn day. Because after that you've been nothing but a distraction to me. Every. Day._

And if he did get to her....what then? She'd probably run from him. Nothing would change in her mind.

But still....

"A couple of you go down the tunnel and look around," he pointed at Vance and Phil. "You see anything call on the radio. Me and the others are gonna look around out here."

Vance and Phil blanched but crept into the tunnel submissively. The Joker watched them disappear into the blackness and grinned to himself. If he was right about Crane he wouldn't have to worry about taking care of Vance. Phil too. Stupid bastard had taken forever to notify him about Sam getting grabbed, had followed Crane and _then_ called him when he should have called the moment it happened.

He shook his head. It wasn't hard to do something right. It _wasn't_. As much as he loved anarchy he couldn't abide people doing a half-assed job. And unreliable people. They pissed him off too.

With that in mind he watched the tunnel entrance in anticipation. Maybe Crane wouldn't let him down. Maybe.

* * *

"Too pretty _not_ to eat." Waylon finally said.

Samantha wondered if he was a virgin but there was no way in hell she was about to ask him.

_Might take it as an invitation._

"Well.....thanks for thinking I'm pretty anyway," she answered, feeling stupid. "Hey, my head hurts really bad. I had a bottle of pills on me and now they're gone. Do you know where they are? They're for pain."

_My money is gone too but I'll work on that later._

Waylon regarded her for a few seconds before nodding his head. "Uh-huh. I know where they are."

She bit the bullet. "Do you think you could bring me some?"

_And make it fast before Crane gets back._

He hesitated. "He'll get mad."

"I won't say anything. I promise. My head just hurts really bad. I feel sick." She was overexaggerating, her head did hurt but not _that_ bad.

"When you get back we can talk more," she promised. "I'd like to know more about you Waylon."

"Why?" He grunted, straightening up. "So you can be happy you're not me? That you don't look like _this_?" He indicated the platelike scales covering his belly and then his barely human face. "I make people like _you_ feel better about themselves. Always have."

"No, because I think you deserve better than this kind of life."

_Even though you are going to end up having me for brunch._

He stared at her a second and the baleful glint in his eyes softened.

"I'll get 'em but you won't say anything to him, right?"

"Like I said, I promise you. I don't want him to shock you."

Waylon tilted his head at her and clicked his clawed hands together. After a moment he seemed to come to a silent conclusion.

"I'll be back." He said simply and lumbered out of the room.

When he was gone Samantha breathed a long sigh of relief.

* * *

**A/N: **The picture I have of Waylon is much like the way he looks in Arkham Asylum. If you're curious you can do a Google image search on "killer croc arkham asylum". He's not pretty but quite spectacular.


	33. How to ruin a plan

**CHAPTER THIRTY THREE**

_How to ruin a plan_

"Thanks," she said, chewing a couple of the pills and washing the taste away with the warm Coke Waylon had brought to her. "You don't know how much this means."

Waylon grunted. He was just standing there, looming over her silently. It made her nervous.

"Why don't you sit down?" She slipped the bottle into her pocket, wondering what she would say if Crane found them. Evidently Waylon hadn't thought of that either.

"He'll be back soon," Waylon said shortly. "If he sees me sitting with you....."

"He'll shock you."

"Uh-huh."

"You know...it isn't any of my business but you shouldn't let him treat you that way. You're not an animal Waylon."

"But I get carried away. I get _bad_."

"How?" She wasn't sure she really wanted to know.

"When I get mad. When I smell blood. I want to eat then. Tear and rip and eat." He grinned dreamily.

She frowned and sat her drink on the floor beside her. The pills were kicking in, relaxing her. Time for the next step. Soon.

"Have you always been like this?" She asked.

His muscles tensed and he knelt down in front of her. Samantha held her breath against the ensuing smell and forced herself to hold his reptilian stare.

"Ask other things," he snarled. "_Not_ that."

"Oh okay," she swallowed, looking away from him. "Sorry."

A moment of awkward silence. Then she pointed at his bandaged shoulder. "Does it hurt very bad?"

"A little. No medicine from Crane today. He says I don't need it now."

"You can have some of my pills. They're for pain."

_Please take them. Please?_

He shook his head. "No."

"It'll be okay. I won't tell. They're like the morphine he was giving you."

"I like morphine."

She laughed. "Don't we all."

"He's going to start on you when he gets back."

She locked eyes with him. "Did he tell you that?"

"Uh-huh."

Samantha sighed. "Since my time is running out why don't you take some of these pills and talk to me. It would be nice, you know? To at least know I met someone who didn't hate me before I die or...whatever."

Waylon regarded her curiously, then nodded. "Okay. Shoulder hurts bad."

Samantha grinned and dug the pill bottle out of her pocket. "Since you're so big I'll have to give you several. Might want to chew them too. You know, so they'll work faster."

"Okay."

She dumped a handful into her palm and offered them to him. He took them eagerly and she watched as he chewed them.

_Enough to give a t-rex a helluva buzz. Please let this work._

"So, where did Crane go?" She asked him when he was finished with the pills.

"To get some things. A saw, scalpel. You know...things."

A shiver went through her. "He go very far to get them?"

"No. He's still in the sewers. We keep things on the other side. Never keep everything in the same place he always says."

Samantha puzzled over that but let it go. "So he'll be back anytime."

"Uh-huh." Waylon's eyes looked glazed.

"I wish he was nicer to you. I'd never treat someone like you that way."

Waylon snorted derisively and sat down across from her.

"I'm serious," she continued. "One thing I've learned from being around the Joker is that everyone is the same at the core. They may be confused or......homicidal but they hurt too. No matter what, they want companionship, at least to a point. That and understanding."

Her own words embarrassed her but told herself she had to do it.

"But here you are. Gonna pay for what Joker did to Crane. And where is the clown?" Waylon looked around, as if to find him. "Not here. No. _You_ pay for what _he_ did."

_We don't know that just yet buddy. But I have to agree, it isn't looking good for me._

She shrugged. "We all take that chance. I never would have done this to him, left him like he's left me. But at least I can go to my death knowing that. You know, one day something like this may happen to you. Crane might let you hang for what he's done."

To her surprise Waylon didn't seem upset at her words. His eyes searched her face.

"He would," he agreed, his already garbled speech becoming more slurred with each word. "It isn't fair what's going to happen to you. I want to...want to....taste you but I know it isn't fair."

His misshapen hand crept closer to hers and she eyed it with growing dread.

"No it isn't," she murmured. "But what is? I just wish....."

"What?" He leaned closer.

She took a deep breath. "I just wish we could get out of this. So we could live the kind of life we deserve. Both of us. I was going somewhere when you two caught me. Somewhere you could go too. There's swamps there, places you could go where no one would hurt you or hunt you."

Waylon moved back, the surprise evident on his face. Before he could say anything a loud explosion shook the very walls of the room.

* * *

When he heard the explosion the Joker nodded his head. Scarecrow had booby-trapped the tunnel.

"I knew it was too obvious," he muttered to himself. "Did you set those for me or someone else? 'Cause you know I'm not gonna fall for it. Not when I have fodder."

His eyes darted to his three remaining men.

"The way should be clear now," he told them lightly. "Two of you go check it out. You and you." He pointed at two of them.

They stared at him, wanting to say no. The looks on their faces said it all.

_Are you crazy? Us go in there after what we just heard? Go screw yourself freak._

But they went. The Joker paced in front of the tunnel, listening. Crane wouldn't face him. More than likely he'd run once he found out he was around. In a few minutes he'd go in. He'd give his men time to blunder across anymore traps.

His remaining goon stood near him with an apprehensive look on his face.

"Boss," he whispered. "I think someone's out here with us. I can feel it."

"I know," the Joker answered nonchalantly. He'd noticed it a while back. Eyes in the darkness. Watching and waiting.

_Come on then. Come on come on. You want to make a move? I came prepared for you._

This night was beginning to look promising.

* * *

Waylon leapt to his feet, agile despite his size and the pills. He went to the doorway and began to sniff the air like a dog.

"What the hell was that?" Samantha asked, rising to her feet too.

"Someone set off the bombs. Crane put them in the tunnels so no one could get out or in." He snuffled the air again. "Men. Blood. I can smell them."

He started out the door and Sam followed him. "Wait, don't leave me here. If Crane comes......"

"Come on then," he snarled absently. "Stay behind. Nothing funny from you either."

"Of course not." She promised.

On their way out of the room she noticed a room adjacent to the one she'd been kept in. This one was smaller and piled with canisters and cardboard boxes. In a dim corner she spied something familiar. Her duffel bag. Checking to see where Waylon was - he'd went ahead of her, excited by the smell of blood - and opened it. Her money was still there.

"Oh fuck yes." She whispered happily and sprinted off after Waylon through ankle deep water. She didn't really want to take her chances with him but he knew his way around the sewers. Following him might help her find her way out.

_Not to mention I might be able to use him if Crane or anyone else shows up._

She thought she'd gained enough of his confidence where he might turn against Crane if it came to it. And if Crane was still in the sewers he'd have heard the explosions by now and would be on his way.

With that thought in mind she ran faster, following Waylon's heavy footsteps.

* * *

**A/N: **I purposefully left Sam's motivations a bit murky. Does she want to OD Waylon or merely get him high enough to let his guard down? Did she really mean the things she said to him? That's left for everyone else to decide. I do think she's spent a little too much time around Jack though. She's definitely gotten more devious.


	34. Feint

**A/N: **Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it!

**CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR**

_Feint_

When she caught up with Waylon she found him crouched over in the shallow water.

"What did you find?" She asked, trying to peer over his shoulder. The dim service bulbs hanging in the tunnel didn't shed enough light for her to see what he was up to.

"Men," he answered brusquely. "Blown up. Pieces."

Suddenly he straightened up to his full height and turned to her. She took a step back. Dangling from his mouth was a piece of shredded clothing, most likely a shirt. In one hand he held a piece of someone's arm.

"Christ." She whispered.

"Still like me?" He chuckled. "Still think I'm _not_ an animal?"

"Look Waylon....uh....this is just the way you are. You can't....." She tried not to stare at his bloody teeth, at the mangled arm he undoubtedly planned to eat.

He motioned for her to be quiet, eyes searching over her shoulder.

"Crane is coming," he said. "Gonna shock me. He's coming. He'll say I'm out of control."

"Don't let him," she hissed. "Don't listen to him. He has no right to tell you what to do."

"Uh-huh." Waylon's breath was coming in agitated puffs and his chest swelled like the bellows on a ship. He stalked past Sam, back to where they came from.

Desperately she looked in the other direction, then at Waylon. She could go on, could let him deal with Crane. But what if there were more traps? Or more people in the tunnel? Her gun was gone, taken by Crane, and she had no idea who the people were. They could be cops, they could be Jack's men. They could be anybody.

"Damnit." She swore softly and followed Waylon.

* * *

The Joker knew it was coming, could feel it. The unseen watcher was ready to make his move. He slipped a hand into an inner pocket and immediately found what he sought. His insurance, his ace in the hole. When the Bat saw what he had he'd stop in his tracks.

_I want you to do it. Come on. You and me._

A gasp from the thug behind him and a soft _thud _as the man fell unconscious to the ground.

The Joker bared his teeth in a smile as Batman stepped into view. The larger man approached warily and stopped a few feet away. In the light of the distant streetlight his dark eyes glittered angrily.

_No high places. He's at a disadvantage and he knows it._

"Oh look, it's Mr. Wayne playing dress-up again," the Joker sneered. "Why would you even bother with me? And here I thought I was different....you know...considering what I, uh, what I know about you."

Batman drew himself up, gloved fists curling in rage. "You're cornered," he rasped. "And you know what I can do to you, so just give yourself up. If you don't I'll be more than happy to beat you to a bloody pulp."

The Joker cocked his head incredulously. "Is that supposed to scare me? Hm? C'mon you know me a little better than _that._"

Batman, obviously in no mood to banter with him, took a quick step closer. As much as he wanted to tease him the Joker decided now wasn't a good time.

_Time to reign him in a little._

"Now, now...let's not get too, um, _eager_," he pulled the detonator out of his pocket and shook it at Batman teasingly. "You wouldn't want anymore tragedy on your conscience now would you?"

The Batman stopped short, eyes flickering from the detonator to the Joker's face. "Coward." He finally spat contemptously.

"Aw, you hurt my feelings Bruce. Careful...don't want to hurt them so badly that I get upset and push this button. People might get hurt. You don't want that do you?"

"What does that go to?"

"Always with the obvious questions. You're so predictable y'know? But I'll humor you because I know you'll get a real _laugh_ out of it."

He paused, sucking his teeth noisily, drawing the tension out. "Hey....Gordon's wife and kids.....are they home around this time? Hm? My uh sources say they are. Wouldn't you just hate to see them get blasted to smithereens? How do you think 'ol Jim would take it? Think he might be a lit-tle bit upset or would he be happy I took all that borrrring domestic servitude away from him?"

* * *

"What's going on Waylon? Why is _she_ not in the room?" Crane asked furiously.

"People in the tunnels," Waylon grunted. "And I took her with me. Safer."

Crane clutched a device in his hand, it looked like a small remote and Sam guessed it was for Waylon's collar. He looked uneasy, especially when he spied the arm Waylon was still carrying.

"I told you not to talk to her," he raged. "I _told_ you...."

His voice garbled into inarticulate rage and he pressed the button on the remote. Smoke came from Waylon's collar and he howled in agony.

"Hey, stop it," she snapped, moving between the two men. "Why don't you leave him alone? It was me, okay? It's my fault."

Crane ignored her. His eye was fixed on Waylon with sadistic glee, finger still pressed on the remote. Waylon squealed pitifully and thrashed in the filthy water.

"STOP IT!" Samantha screamed and hit Crane squarely in the mouth. He reeled back, the device falling from his hand.

"You little bitch," he said in amazement, touching his split lip gingerly. "Waylon, take her back to her room. After we take care of our intruders I'm going to have you eat her while she's still alive."

"No." Waylon growled.

Crane inclined his head, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "No? Waylon, _I'm_ the reason you're free. Whatever she's been saying to you is a lie. She's trying to save her........."

"I. Said. NO."

Waylon was on Crane in a second, delivering a punch to the other man's chest hard enough to shatter bone. The blow threw him back several feet and he landed in a heap in the water. Waylon advanced on him, breathing crazily, when he abruptly stopped. He turned, sniffing the air again.

"What now?" Samantha asked shakily. She could see nothing but water and the tunnel's streaked concrete walls.

Waylon uttered a feral moan.

"The Bat," he rumbled. "theBattheBattheBattheBat." His huge head swung back and forth, as if in a trance. "He caught me, took me to Arkham. He's coming for me. The Bat. I smell him. Hate him. Gonna kill him, crush his bones, drink his blood." He paused and then exploded into motion, running for the tunnel's exit, still carrying the severed arm.

Samantha stared after him in bemusement, then looked at Crane's still form.

_He won't be a threat anymore._

"Been one hell of an interesting night," she said to herself and ran after Waylon.

* * *

Batman rocked back on his heels. "No." His voice was low. Horrified.

"_Yes_. Do I look like I'm joking? Hm? Wait, don't answer that."

The Joker regarded the other man in amusement. "Did you really think I'd put myself out here without some protection? Huh? Something to um counteract your strength? Sorry Mr. Wayne but I'm not ready to go back to Arkham just yet. I've got a few loose ends to tie up, so to speak."

He arched an eyebrow. "But it looks like we're at a standstill. You can't do anything to me and I can't do anything to you. Quite a predicament, hm?"

And it _was_ a predicament. The detonator wasn't connected to anything. He would have to count on Batman to call his bluff and leave.

Batman remained silent. Now he'd want to talk, to stall for time while he thought up his next move, that much was obvious. The Joker wished he could see the man's face, so he could read him better. However, he could tell the man was thinking of _something_. He wouldn't back down that easily. No, not the Bat.

_He'd risk Gordon's family to get to me. I'm almost impressed. _

He was thinking of his next move when the sounds of screams came from the tunnel.


	35. Barracuda

**CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE**

_Barracuda_

"There's something coming. Something _big._"

The two thugs stood frozen in the tunnel. The sound was coming closer. It was running straight at them, the dirty water sloshing with every step.

And then a figure, silhoutted against the service bulbs. Man-shaped yet much larger than most humans.

A rumbling growl. The water splashed furiously. An odor met their nostrils, a zoo smell, of something savage, overpowering even the sewer's stench.

"Let's get out of here," Mark whispered. "To hell with this."

They ran back towards the entrance, not caring what the boss might say or do, only wanting to get _away._

"What _is_ that?" Roger gasped as they fled. "That isn't a man. I saw it. It's not................"

His words were cut short as the creature grabbed him. Alan kept going, too afraid to look back. Mark's shrieks met his ears and he tried to ignore them.

_Just go. Run. Run faster. It won't catch you. Go._

In a moment the thing had him too and he screamed helplessly when he saw it up-close. It lifted him off his feet and bared huge fangs at his throat.

"Waylon _don't._" Alan heard a woman's voice plead.

_Waylon? It has a name?_ He thought crazily, right before it tore his throat out.

* * *

"Oh Waylon." Samantha sighed as she watched him rip the second man to pieces. She realized the painkillers had enabled him to withstand Crane's electrical shocks but they also made him even more out of control.

_Just a matter of time until he turns on me._

Waylon ripped a chunk of flesh from the man's ribs and gobbled it down in one bite. He still held the severed arm in one hand.

"Your clown is out there." He said simply.

Samantha clutched her duffel bag closer. "He is?"

"Uh-huh. I know his smell from Arkham. Death and crazy. Bad. But I don't care about him. I want the Bat. _He's _the reason I went to Arkham. _He's_ the reason Crane shocked me and sprayed me with the...the scare spray. He did it so much it didn't work after a while and then the shocks started coming." He clawed at his collar. "It's all _his_ fault!"

Before she could respond he started for the tunnel's exit. Samantha could tell they were almost out and it reminded her of leaving Arkham's tunnels with Dominic and Dr. Peloni. The memory of that night angered her and she gritted her teeth.

_We won't have a repeat of that night. Won't happen. No matter what._

* * *

Batman's eyes flashed to the tunnel, then back to him.

"Don't look at _me_," The Joker shrugged. "I'm just as confused as you are."

"Another one of your tricks?"

"Tricks? The only trick I've got is _this_," he shook the detonator again, making a show of resting his thumb on its button. "The question is...what are you gonna do about it, hm? Run away to skulk in the shadows or stick around in the hopes that maybe, just _maybe_, you'll catch me? Do you think it's worth it Bruce?"

"You're just a glorified thug. Take away your suit, your scars and your make-up and you're the same as him," Batman pointed at the unconscious goon. "Nothing special. Nothing worthy of attention. One day you'll find that out. And when that day comes I'll be there."

"Oh I'm sure you will _Bruce_. Tell me, do you think you're any different? Of course you do. Mommy and Daddy probably told you were oh so special...right up until the day they were gunned down in that alley like a couple of dogs. Am I right?"

Batman took another step forward, his rage evident in the set of his jaw. His body language was one of barely contained energy, of a spring about to uncoil.

And at that moment it happened.

A roar, loud enough to make you want to clap your hands over your ears. There was little human about the sound. A huge shape emerged from the tunnel.

"YOU!" Croc bellowed, hurtling towards the Batman. "YOU!"

In one clawed hand he held an arm but threw it down when he reached the other man. For a second Batman stared, stunned.

The Joker stood back, a little bewildered, but mostly amused. The force of Croc's body threw Batman to the ground and he was considering jumping in on the action when he saw her.

She came from the tunnel in a dead run, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. For a moment she slowed just the tiniest bit, then whipped past him. He turned to watch her vanish into the sparse woods, undoubtedly heading for the road that ran nearby.

He shook his head. She'd seen him. And she'd run. Just like he'd thought she would.

"She ran," he said out loud. "I came to get her out of a bind and she ran. From _me_."

_Again._

He was annoyed that his voice sounded so shocked. Of course he'd known it all along. Sam could be ungrateful at times. So why was he even shocked? Typical Sam.

_Didn't even stop. That bitch!_

He found himself a little impressed. If she'd stopped and done something stupid like fling herself at him....well he would have found that....repellent. Weak.

Still.....

Behind him Batman and Croc were struggling furiously. He ignored them.

"Our deal's off babe." He snarled as if she could hear him.

A moment later he began to smile. Then laugh.

And that was what he'd wanted all along. An excuse to null the agreement they'd made back in the break room. Things really did have a way of working out.

* * *

When she hit the main road she paused, trying to get her bearings. After a few seconds of confusion she knew where she was. Her motel wasn't far at all. She could get to her car, if the cops didn't know what had happened to her that is, and leave. She headed off, sprinting down the side of the road, hoping the police wouldn't drive past her.

_He saw _me_. I saw _him_. And I kept running._

The memory made her want to laugh hysterically. It wasn't particularly funny but oh the look on his face as she went past him! He'd been there, to help her maybe, and she'd hauled ass, leaving him with Batman and Waylon. She even felt a twinge of guilt over Waylon and even Batman but what could she have done? Nothing but save herself and let them fight.

She had to admit, using Waylon's rather spectacular exit from the tunnel had been a good way to get past unnoticed. Well, _almost_ unnoticed.

_Why _would_ I stop for Jack? After what he's done? No, fuck that. Anyway we had an agreement he and I. And I never asked him to watch me and then come running when Crane got me. This damsel in distress white knighting shit is getting old. And I showed him....I didn't need him. Got out of it by myself. And now I'm going to Florida........._

She stopped running. Her motel was in sight. The garish red and yellow lights from the motel's sign should have been comforting. But now they seemed mocking.

_I don't have my car keys._

She pictured her Barracuda sitting in the parking lot, awaiting her return.

_No keys. Who's laughing now?_

And to make matters worse, someone was following her.

* * *

**A/N: **Yep, reunion soon, like next chapter soon.


	36. On a rainy Autumn night, she was

**CHAPTER THIRTY SIX**

_On a rainy Autumn night, she was_

Samantha checked her pockets, even checked the bag. Nothing.

_I had them when I left the room. And then Crane got me and........._

"Crane," she muttered. "You patch-faced sonofabitch. You got my keys didn't you? You took them."

She almost went to her knees, right there on the roadside, but she forced herself to keep going towards the motel. There was no reason for it but she had to go somewhere. The unseen pursuer stalked her, just out of view. Jack, of course it was. She found a perverse satisfaction in that knowledge but also trepidation.

_He probably won't fool around the motel. Surely he knows there's cops keeping an eye on the place and anyway he's being hunted. He can't blend in. He'll stick out like a sore thumb._

She'd go to her car and figure something out. If she had to she'd go another night. Jack would stay away. He wouldn't expose himself. He would stay away.

She kept repeating those things to herself as she made her way to the motel. She reached the deserted parking lot and still she could feel him following her.

"Go away Jack," she called, not looking over her shoulder. "Leave me alone."

The only response was a snicker and hurried footsteps. Right behind her now, in the open for anyone to see. She could picture him trailing behind her and wanted to turn around. To see him. Horror raced through her and she knew it wasn't for herself. It was for him. He could be seen, the cops would come and that would be it. Maybe this time they'd kill him.

_Don't be stupid, he knows exactly what he's doing. Don't worry about him. He's using how you feel to control you. Run. Hide. Get away from him._

Her voice of reason whispered these things to her but she couldn't listen. She could hear her breath coming hard and fast, feel the pain in her side from running. She was exhausted, barely able to walk anymore.

_He's come to tell you the deal's off._

That thought, entering her mind unbidden, finally made her stop. She whirled around, half expecting to see nothing.

And there he was, only a few feet away. His gaze roved over her, then over the duffel bag.

"Hi." He said mildly, as if nothing had ever happened. It was as if they were two normal people who had merely run into each other on the street.

"Go away," she whispered harshly. "Do you want to get caught? Why don't you just leave me alone?"

He tilted his head quizzically. The neon lights made him look unearthly. It had begun to rain, the water was making a mess of his greasepaint. She thought how she'd always liked the way he looked when the paint was smeared. It made him look evil. Demonic. And she loved it.

"That's not gonna happen Sam," he said softly. The contrast between his somber tone and his grinning face was unnerving. "So stop saying it. And of course I don't want to get caught....so let's get this over with, hm?"

"What do you mean, get it over with?"

He waved a hand through the air. "This whole thing. Uh, between _us_. I came to help you out tonight y'know. And you ran from me." His jaw worked, as if containing a sudden rage. "_Ran_!"

He broke into a high-pitched keening laugh, as if the thought of her running away was hilarious, and then just as quickly his serious demeanor returned.

"Do you really think after everything I've told you and the things you know, that you can just get out?" His eyes hardened and his tone turned to ice. "Do you?"

"We've been over this. We had a deal," she answered. "Now you're going to......."

"_I'm_ not going to do anything. _You_ are."

Samantha shook her head helplessly. "What the hell are you talking about Jack?"

_He's crazy Sam. _He_ probably doesn't even know what he's talking about._

Using the name brought an instant reaction from him. A couple of long steps and his face was inches from hers. "For the thousandth time stop calling me that. It isn't even my real name. Now, do you remember what I told you about my parents? About what I did to them?"

His breath was hot on her face. It brought up things she didn't care to think about at the moment.

"Yes."

He studied her keenly. "Good. You're a good listener. Means you care, right? Hm, well maybe we won't go _that_ far. Anyway, I want you to find a computer. Do a little research."

She knew what he meant and marvelled at how self-absorbed and coy he could be sometimes. "Why can't you just tell me?"

"Because I can't."

His hands had clamped over her shoulders, holding her fast. Samantha looked into those soulless eyes, then his mouth, then back up again. Something in her expression must have excited him because he moved closer, until their bodies were touching.

"There's one of those internet cafes nearby. Open twenty four seven," she heard herself saying. "Or I can go to the library tomorrow."

"Mm-hm."

One hand left her shoulder and rested on the small of her back. She could feel him now and it didn't matter that they were in a public place, right there in the open for anyone to see. She looked away from his face to try and break the spell. It didn't work.

"I can't drive anywhere," she murmured, feeling foolish. "My car keys. Crane has them."

"Not a problem. Check in a few hours. I'll have them in the glove box. Unless you want me to bring 'em to your room. Would you like that? Hm?"

The hand on the small of her back crept lower and squeezed roughly. That did it. She couldn't take it anymore. She crushed her lips onto his and he responded with a growl. His tongue darted into her mouth and at that moment she would have done anything he'd wanted. Anything. Without realizing it she grabbed handfuls of his coat.

"Yes," she whispered when they broke away. "I would."

_Oh my God what am I doing? Am I crazy? Probably. Can't help it._

He laughed and began to walk away.

"Oh, by the way Sam." He called out, mirth fairly bleeding from his voice.

"Yeah?" She felt a little dazed, as if she'd just woke up.

"Our deal? It's off. _Gone_."

He slouched off into the rain, back the way he'd come. She watched him as he disappeared from sight.

"I am crazy," she whispered, wiping the make-up from her face. "A crazy fucking fool."

* * *

**A/N: **I can't help but laugh at Sam in this chapter. She got played and played hard.

Anyway, this chapter name was a take on a story called "On a Beautiful Summer's Day, He Was" by Robert McCammon. It's about the Joker's childhood and goes along with my theory on him, that being he was born the way he is. A bad seed you could say. A very bad one. Anyway if anyone knows where I can get this story (for free *cough*) please send me a PM.


	37. Disclosures

**CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN**

_Disclosures_

"Oh _there_ you are!" the Joker clapped his hands together in delight, eyes wide. "I've been looking all over the place for you."

Dr. Crane sighed, as well as his broken ribs would allow him to anyway, and slumped against the wall. "Either kill me or leave me alone. I'm in no mood for you at the moment."

When he'd finally come to he'd managed to drag himself into the same room he'd kept Samantha in and give himself a morphine injection. That had helped a little but he still couldn't move without every fiber of his being screaming in agony.

Waylon had turned on him. Stupid animal. When he found him he'd......he'd.......do something to him. At the moment he was in too much pain to plot.

"Aw c'mon Patches...not happy to see me? I wonder why that would be?" The clown rolled his eyes to the dank ceiling and rubbed his chin in mock thought. "Maybe because of that neat little trick you pulled with _her_?"

Crane snorted. He felt a little high and it made him braver. "Her? She'll bring you down. You have no control, do you realize that? She's not one of us, she's one of them and she'll turn on you in an instant. And please, stop calling me Patches for fuck's sake."

"Now now Doc, don't be so sensitive. I think you're just a little, uh, sore she got the upper hand on you. Y'know if you weren't so eager to get even with me...."

"Leave me alone!" Crane shouted and immediately regretted it.

The Joker grinned at him and nodded sympathetically. "I will, I just need to find something. Uh, some car keys to be exact. Seen any?"

"You came here for _car keys_? You've got to be jok....oh nevermind."

"_Her_ car keys. Samantha's." The Joker's voice turned steely, all humor gone.

"Of course," Crane said wearily. "Now I see...."

"No, I doubt that you do with one eye and all. So where are they, hm?"

Another painful sigh. "In my pants pocket."

"Well can ya get them? No offense but I'm not in the mood to dig around in there." The Joker's scars spread into a sardonic grin. "You _used_ to be a nice-looking guy and all but you're just not my type."

Crane shot him a hateful look and produced the keys from his pocket. The clown snatched them away and they vanished into his own pocket in an instant.

He turned as if to leave and then came back. "Oh, I almost forgot. Silly me, y'know?"

Crane stiffened warily but said nothing.

"I'm gonna need you to stay here for a while. Unfinished business and all but right now I just don't have the time for it." He produced a pair of handcuffs from his coat and Crane wondered how many things the Joker could fit in the garment.

"Can't have you taking off on me so I'll just do this." The Joker pulled Crane against the far corner of the room and handcuffed him to some nearby iron pipes. "Don't worry too much about the Croc coming to help you. He had a little, uh, tangle with the Bat and lost. I'd say he's having paper gown time at Arkham about right now."

"Don't do this!" Crane gasped. "You can't! I'm hurt. I might die!"

"Oh you'll be fine. I won't be gone too long." The Joker patted him on the shoulder and turned to leave but not before winking at him and saying "Seeya later Patches."

* * *

After her encounter with Jack she hadn't wanted to go back to her room. Her room key was still in the pocket of her jeans, Crane had left that alone, but she'd felt uneasy about being there.

_You're afraid Jack will show up at your door._

Samantha shrugged to herself and glanced around the room surreptitiously. There was hardly anyone here, just an old man and a duo of college-aged guys, but she still felt strange. Watched almost.

Curiosity had driven her here too, had made her walk a few blocks in the rain to the internet cafe.

He wanted her to know about him. She had enough information to find out. All she had to do was get her fingers to move.

For a long time she sat slouched in the cheap plastic chair, fingers frozen over the keyboard.

Finally she began to type.

* * *

When she got back to her room she found him in her room. She was too numb with shock to be angry or scared.

"Soo Sam, where ya been? I brought you your car keys."

She didn't ask how he got them. Nodding, she tossed her duffel bag in a corner and glanced out of the corner of her eye at him. She wanted to sit on her bed, to just lie down and sleep and not feel anything for a while. But he was on the bed, stretched out comfortably. She didn't want to be near him, not right now.

He picked up on it right away. "Aw what's wrong babe? Hm? You were so _receptive_ earlier." He offered her a dangerous smirk. "Was it, um, was it something I _said_?"

That seemed to amuse him and he began to giggle. Samantha stared into a corner of the room.

"I'm going to take a shower and change," she said absently. "Please don't come into the bathroom."

This brought about more laughter, louder this time.

"Ah...._now_ I know. You went ahead and did your research didn't you?" He sat up on the bed, elbows on his knees. "Like what you found out Sam? Huh?"

Without a word she went into the bathroom and locked the door.

* * *

When she was finished she came out of the room. He was still on the bed, eyes shut.

"Ready to talk?" The sound of his voice made her jump.

She didn't respond. For a brief instant she considered telling him to leave but decided against it. Finally she settled on the edge of the bed with her back to him, as far from him as she could manage without falling off the mattress.

"Wow, whatever you found out must have hit you hard. You're acting like, well, like you can't stand the sight of me." His eyes were open now, she could feel their mocking glare.

"Why?" She asked simply. That was a question she tried not to ask him. But now she had to. "You were a kid. _Why_ would you do that? _How_ could you do that?"

"Ohhh, you _did_ find a few things out didn't ya? Let me guess, you searched about my parents and found out my name. Then you did a search on my name. Is that how it happened Sam?"

"You wanted me to. You asked."

"But you didn't have to. You would have done it on your own eventually."

"Yeah."

"Come on. You know me better than anyone. Anyone alive that is. Are you honestly surprised by what you found? Hm? Because if you are......." He trailed off and she could hear his tongue traveling over the scars. "If you are then you're not only a fool but a hypocritical fool."

"You killed your grandparents when you were thirteen," her voice sounded dull and defeated in her own ears. "You shot them both and burned their house down."


	38. If you only knew

**CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT**

_If you only knew_

He stared across the bed at her, wondering why she was so upset. Of all the things he'd done murdering those two had been near the bottom of his list in terms of bad. To him anyway. There were so many other things. Years and years of things. Hell, by the time he'd met her at the factory he'd already killed four people.

And by the time he'd come back to her he'd murdered so many that he couldn't keep count of them all.

"Look Sam," he began carefully. "It wasn't like they were baking cookies and then I blew 'em away with a shotgun. Okay? There's, um, a whole story behind it."

They'd been his father's parents and that was all that needed to be said. Both sides of his family were bad but his dad's side was the worst. He could remember the drinking and the beatings vividly. Sometimes he'd lay awake and his mind would go back to those violet-hued and hazy days. Invariably he'd smile.

Sent to his grandparent's farm upstate for setting fires. His grandfather staring at him with icy disgust, snapping his belt as he laid out the ground rules.

It hadn't stopped him from setting fires. In fact he'd escalated. He remembered lighting up an old shed in the woods and watching the inferno in a trance. That feeling of power was erotic, although at the time he was too young to recognize it as such. All he knew was that it felt good.

He found himself telling Samantha all this and wondered if maybe it wasn't such a good idea to let her in on so much. He couldn't stop himself though. The words came out in a rush, damning him, saving him. It didn't really matter.

At first he'd hated it there but after a while he got used to it, even started to like it. The rural setting was good for secrets. He could stay gone all day, alone with his thoughts and his fires and other things he didn't want to talk about and no one ever bothered him. He'd come home after dark and his grandparents would yell and curse, sometimes even hit him, but he was used to his dad doing worse so it wasn't a big deal.

And then summer was over. Time to go back to the city and his parents. His grandparents were happy to be rid of their odd grandson but he wasn't ready to go. In a rare display of vulnerability he'd begged them to let him stay but they had none of it. And he knew. They hated him, thought he was a freak. The way they both looked at him, with barely concealed distaste, told him as much.

And so he made his decision. If they wouldn't have him he'd get himself put away.

A few days later he killed them both with a .12 gauge shotgun as they slept and burned their house to ashes. He'd stood in the early morning light, smiling at the yellow flames and thought about how perfect it all was. Now he'd get sent away, maybe for good. No more mom and dad. And the icing on the cake....he'd gotten his revenge on his grandparents for rejecting him.

As luck would have it he was only sent away for two years. His father was a judge and he had pulled strings to make his son's stay in the state hospital as short as possible. His father had always pulled strings.

It worked. He'd often wondered what would have happened if his dad had just left him in there.

When he was finished telling Sam all this she just sat there. Her back was to him. He stared at the back of her head, at her dripping hair and wondered what else he could say to make her understand. It occurred to him that Crane was right. She was one of _them._

"See, it isn't so bad. Right?" The wheedling tone of his own voice aggravated him.

_I want her. She's going to understand. If she doesn't then she'll get over it. If she can live with the other things she can live with this._

Finally she turned around to face him. She still wouldn't look at him but he figured it was a start.

"I guess I can't call you Jack anymore can I?" Her voice was quiet. Sad. Silly for her to be sad over his grandparents but he let it slide.

"I don't like the other name either."

"Joseph," she said with a short laugh. "Joseph Kerr. And I thought it was a joke. Never would have believed that was your real name."

She was talking about when he'd been waiting for her outside Arkham's tunnels. He didn't like to think about that night.

Her eyes finally met his. She looked tired.

_She wants to lay down but she doesn't trust me. After all I've done for her and she doesn't trust me._

Anger flashed through him and he held it back. So far things were going his way. No point in spoiling it now. And anyway, he didn't want her to be tired.

"You can lie down," he told her. "I'm not going to do anything to you."

"I know. Hey, I've been wondering....what do you think would have happened if I'd never met you or offered you a ride?"

He mulled that one over for a while. "I would have still been the way I am now. And we would still run into each other, one way or the other. This is the way it's supposed to be with us Sam."

After a few minutes she stretched out next to him, keeping her body away from his. A few more minutes and she was asleep. He watched her for a while and edged closer. She didn't wake up, didn't move away.

"I meant what I said," he whispered into her ear. "Everything."

Her hand found his and clasped it tightly, as if telling him to stop. But she didn't let go and he fell into a fitful sleep next to her. Tomorrow she'd probably want him to leave.

Tomorrow didn't matter, he told himself.

* * *

_"I'm Officer Kerr. Joe Kerr."_

Samantha's eyes snapped open. Beside her the Joker dozed.

_Dominic had been there. He'd heard the name, seen the name tag. And Dominic wasn't dead._

She thought of him lying comatose in his hospital bed and wondered if Jack - she couldn't think of him as Joe, it didn't fit him - remembered telling Dominic his name.

_Because if he does......_

She shut her eyes and tried to go back to sleep.


	39. Consigliere

**CHAPTER THIRTY NINE**

_Consigliere_

_"One day I'll have you as my advisor. Know why?"_

_"Why?"_

_"Because you're impartial, you're pragmatic and you have no ambition Sammy. Plus you're family. Normally that wouldn't mean much but with you it does. You're my daughter, my only child....as far as I know of anyway. You'd never sell me out."_

_Her dad smiled at her and continued. "As young as you are I can tell that about you. Trust me honey it's rare. Smarts and disinterest? Come on! Imagine what you'll be like when you get older."_

_Samantha slumped back in the passenger seat of her dad's Camaro and shook her head in confusion. All this talk about advisors and being pragmatic, she didn't understand it. She'd just watched him beat a guy to a pulp over drug money. How could he talk about this shit right now?_

_'Like it didn't even matter', she thought. 'He beat that man's face in while I watched. He wanted me to see. That man was crying and it didn't even matter to dad. He laughed. And now he wants me to be in with him one day?'_

_"Consigliere is what the mafia calls it," her father said as he examined his bloody knuckles. "Trusted advisor."_

_"We're not in the mafia dad. We're not Italian either."_

_"I know that, but it sounds good. Hey and don't worry about that guy I had to beat down. He's like a dog. Dogs can be taught many things but not if we forgive them every time they obey their own nature."_

_Her father, just a small-time drug dealer with grand ambitions and a lawless streak that would never be washed away. He could never live in the straight world her mother said and Samantha knew it was true._

_And now he'd made her bear witness to his violence. She'd lived with the drugs and dealing and everything else all her life. Now she was supposed to accept this. Not only that but he expected her to embrace it one day._

_'Will he expect me to tell him who to beat up, who to kill? Is that what a consigliere does?'_

_She wouldn't do it. Her mother said she was just like him but she was wrong. She _wouldn't_ do it._

_But she knew she'd accept him. No matter what he did she'd accept him and love him. Because in some small way she understood him. Knowing that made her feel ashamed._

_"Consigliere." Her dad repeated, looking back down at his knuckles. "Just you wait."_

* * *

She awoke from the dream unreasonably angry. Beside her Jack still slept and she felt a brief surge of panic. If Gordon came, or some of his cops.......

_Not good._

"Hey, get up," She shook him, surprised when he didn't wake up instantly. "Come on, wake up."

He sat up, shaking his head. "Just when I get to sleep you just gotta wake me up. What's the problem?"

"The problem is you don't need to be here. This place is being watched you know. And if they missed me when Crane got me........"

"They would have already been here hours ago. They didn't miss ya Sam. Nash has kinda made 'em forget about you for a while."

"And the Bat?"

"_Bruce_?" He snorted, popping his neck, then his knuckles. "He didn't see you and he's probably too sore to bother with me after his little, um, tangle with the Croc. And if he does want to find me...." he grinned. "Then let him come."

"See, that's just it. I don't want in the middle of this. For fuck's sake, haven't I been through enough?"

She started to rise from the bed and he stopped her with an outstretched hand.

"I think you like the adventure Sam. I think you've gotten a taste for mayhem. Right? But you'd never admit it, oh of course not! To admit it would be to admit that your previous existence might have been.....wrong for you."

Samantha stared at him in outrage. His smile had grown smug, which infuriated her even more. "Go to hell," she finally said. "You think I liked all the shit that's happened to me? Oh and happened to me because of _you_ I might add."

He rolled his eyes. "Because of _me_? C'mon, you could have put a stop to it. And what's with the whole victim thing, hm? I thought you were above all that. Oh poor you, prey to all these bad bad people and you can't do a thing about it."

"Okay, get out now. You're pissing me off. I've let a lot of things slide but I'm not gonna listen to you mock me. So get the fuck out. Now."

The smile faded. "Nope."

"I mean it Jack. Or Joe. Or Joker or whatever the fuck. Get. Out. NOW."

He shrugged and brushed the dust from his coat ineffectually. "I said no. How many times do I have to say it before it takes?"

She wanted to get off the bed and fling the door open, maybe start yelling for good measure. But she didn't.

"You like this, don't you?"

"So do you Sam. Where would I be if I didn't like conflict? Besides...I know what conflict between us gets me. It always does."

She narrowed her eyes but fought to keep from laughing. "It always gets you laid, doesn't it? It's like lions mating on the Discovery Channel."

Another shrug, his eyes left hers and settled somewhere else. "I wasn't gonna put it that way but....yeah."

"The last time you were about to kill me. In the break room. Don't think I haven't forgotten about that."

"Well the deal's off now," he looked back to her, a sly glint in his eyes. "So you don't have to worry about what I might do. Hm?"

_I doubt that. Seriously doubt it._

Samantha stared at him. "Why are you here Jack? Just say it. You can never just say it can you?"

He licked his lips, the gesture now more nervous than compulsory. "Uh, why should I say it? And anyway, you assume you know but maybe you don't."

"Stop playing games. Just say it."

She realized she'd moved closer to him and told herself it was just to be challenging, nothing more. Evidently Jack saw it as a challenge too because his next words made her freeze.

"Okay then. I want you. I want to tear you apart, make you lose that attitude of yours for a little while." His voice was malevolent yet oddly dreamy, his gaze the same. "I want to hold you down and fuck you until you think you're about to die. I want to _hurt_ you....but in a good way. Is that what you want to hear?"

Samantha swallowed, arousal and cold fear unwinding within her. "Yes, that's exactly what I wanted to hear. No need to be coy, is there?"

"Sometimes you have no idea what you agree to. Did you know that?"

In an instant he'd closed the distance between them. He didn't touch her.

"Oh I know. Don't underestimate me. You know better."

He burst into laughter. "Hm yeah, I guess I do. After the way you played Croc and turned him against Crane....nicely done for someone with no ambition."

The words 'no ambition' sent a chill through her.

_You're just hurtling right into the life your dad wanted for you, aren't you? Consigliere._

Jack picked up on her mood change right away and lifted an eyebrow.

"Nothing. Anyway it wasn't hard. Waylon was unhappy with Crane and I used that. I feel kind of bad he's back in Arkham but at least he won't be eating people."

"Hey Sam?"

"Yeah?"

His hand gripped her forearm tightly. "Stop talking."

* * *

**A/N: **The line "Dogs can be taught many things but not if we forgive them every time they obey their own nature." was taken from the incredibly awesome movie "Dogville".


	40. The other ten percent

**A/N: **Thanks again to my readers and reviewers. Much love and hope everyone is having a good holiday season!

**CHAPTER FORTY**

_The other ten percent_

She opened her mouth, shut it, nodded.

He returned the nod and smiled. "Good. Now listen to me. I know you were gonna take your money and run to Florida to be with your dad. Don't bother to deny it 'cause I know. Now....are you sure that's such a good idea Sam? I mean, come on...the guy's gonna bring you down. He'll never change and he'll use you. What, didya have some kind of, uh, notion that you'd go down there and you'd be a happy little family? Hm? Hey, maybe he can get his baby out of foster care! You can be stuck babysitting your own half-sister _and _doing his dirty work! Because that's exactly what'll happen and then you'll be _trapped_. You might feel trapped by me but trust me, the kind of trap a family puts you in is much much worse."

She knew he was right.

_It's like he can see into your mind. And that kid....dad will try to get her back. She needs to stay with her foster family and far away from her real one._

He rested his chin in the palm of his hand and looked at her expectantly.

"You're a real piece of work," she finally said. "For a moment there you actually sounded concerned about me. But that can't be it. You were taking a goddamn cattle prod to me not long ago and now......"

"That was different. You know, fun and games," he waved his hand dismissively. "You've done just as bad to me. I've got the marks to prove it don't I? You remember taking that knife to me? Sure ya do."

"Here we go again. More mind games and dancing around." She rose from the bed, shaking his hand from her arm. This time he didn't try to stop her. "The truth is you can't stand the thought of me being that far away. God forbid you can't keep me around like a fucking vase on a shelf. Take me down when you want, get your kicks with me, fill my head with all the...the things you've done, then put me back up for a while. That's what I am to you. A vase."

She turned her back to him, knowing it was a bad idea and not caring.

"A _vase_? Interesting comparison. Except I never screwed a vase before. Seems a little out there, even for me."

"Ha ha."

"Look, you broke the deal when you ran from me," his previously light tone darkened. "And you know what? I'm glad you did it."

"Because it gave you an excuse to break it."

"_Exactly_. Hey, did you know who Glen's brother was? Ever heard of Victor Zsasz?"

"Yes."

"Do you think word's gotten out about what you did to Glen? I try to keep my men on a short leash but I'm sure they've said things to people and _those_ people have said things to other people. Get my point?"

Samantha shook her head in exasperation. "So there might be yet another psycho hunting me down. Well that's just fucking peachy."

"Mm-hm. And he's not as..._civilized_ as Crane. Then again, maybe Victor won't care what you did. But you don't know for sure do you?"

The insinuation in his voice annoyed her. "So what if he does come after me? So now you're trying to tell me I should stick around so you can protect me?" She laughed. "He can't be any worse than you."

"Aw, now that's just unkind Sam. I've always been good to you...in my own way. I like you. A _lot_. I just want you to change your mind. What will I do without you, hm? Sure, my job is rewarding but a guy has to have other things. Right?"

She turned to look at him curiously. "Other things? What exactly does that mean?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his tangled hair. "Gonna make me say it, aren't you? I can tell you things Sam and you don't run screaming to the cops. You won't go along with me but you won't sell me out either. That intrigues me. You just accept me, well you used to, and go on. And you, uh, you want me. Not because you're afraid, not because you need me, but because you...um...."

"Because I love you," she finished for him. "And I do. But that doesn't mean I'll be a doormat."

He shot her an aggravated look. "Like you ever were. If you were a doormat I would've chewed you up and spit you out a long time ago babe. Oh and please stop interrupting me. This is hard enough." He tapped his teeth with one gloved finger and regarded her, then began to speak again. "You want out of this city. I need a break. So I was thinking, um, that we could both go for a while. Together."

For a few seconds she merely stared at him, unable to think of what to say. Finally she said: "You've got to be kidding me."

He frowned. "No."

"And where are we going to go? No offense but you stand out, even without the make-up."

He shrugged. "I'm not the only person in the world with scars."

"Yeah but....."

"It'll be fine. I do it all the time. You think I've never been out of Gotham?"

"I'm sure you have but before or after you became the most wanted criminal in America?"

"Both," he smiled wickedly. "I can leave the country if I want. It isn't hard when you have the connections I have."

She couldn't help but grin. "So this is your idea of a vacation I guess. And after everything that's happened you think I'll just say yes to it?"

"Uh...yeah. I didn't forget that you were happy being with me before Glen did what he did. We're tied together for good Sam and nothing's gonna change that. But it doesn't mean our time together has to be unpleasant."

She cocked her head. "You're acting awfully.....different. What gives?"

"Get back here and I'll tell you."

She hesitated a moment, knowing what would happen, what she _wanted_ to happen, then crawled back onto the bed. His eyes travelled over her body then rested on her face.

"I know if you go I'll probably never see you again," he told her. "I'm not gonna let that happen. Ever. I'll follow you into Hell to keep you around."

His eyes lacked their usual malevolent glaze, instead appearing intent, even sincere, in the midst of the black paint.

She exhaled, mildly dismayed at the thrill she got from those words. But mostly she felt hope. Things would never be like they were at the factory or even when he first escaped from Arkham, but maybe that wasn't so bad. Maybe change wasn't such a bad thing after all.

"I didn't want to go away forever," she admitted. "This...this thing with us. It scares me." She smiled. "And I was starting to think you were a hundred percent monster. But you aren't, are you?"

"No," he said seriously. "Just ninety percent."

She started to laugh but his lips on hers stopped her.

* * *

When his phone rang at 2am Gordon felt an all too familiar jolt of trepidation. Late night phone calls were a cliche but in his years as a cop in Gotham he knew they were almost always bad news.

So this time he was pleasantly surprised. It was his sister, sounding as if she were about to start crying from sheer happiness and relief.

Dominic had finally come out of his coma.

* * *

**A/N: "**Like sands through the hourglass so are the days of our......." Oh, my bad, haha.


	41. Chasing it

**A/N: **So did anyone else watch the season finale of "Dexter"? And no I won't spoil anything except to say I loved it!

**CHAPTER FORTY ONE**

_Chasing it_

"Don't try to speak, that'll come later. Okay? You haven't been awake for too long and the doctors say it might take some time to get your bearings. You're going to be fine though. Just fine."

Dominic looked at him and blinked. Gordon could see the confusion in his eyes and had to push a wave of guilt back. The bullet was still in Dominic's brain, the doctors would never be able to remove it.

_Could have happened to anyone. What's important is he's awake and he's going to live._

"Gordon." Dominic rasped, ignoring Gordon's advice.

"Dom....don't."

Dominic's eyes rolled wildly, to the IVs in his arms, then to Gordon's face.

"That...that fucking old man," Dominic whispered urgently. "He shot me."

"I know Dom. Samantha told us about Dr. Peloni."

Dominic's eyes widened. "She got...she got away?"

"Something like that. Listen, we'll talk about this later. Your mother wants to see you and I don't think we need to discuss this in front of her."

Dominic nodded, shutting his eyes wearily.

Gordon stared down at his nephew for a long moment before leaving the ICU. Standing outside the hospital, the frigid night air burning his lungs, he thought about everything that had happened in the past couple of days. The Batman had contacted him and told him about his meeting with the Joker outside the sewers and the threat to blow his house and family up. A bluff of course, designed to keep Batman at a safe distance. Barbara and the kids were out of town. Gordon had contacted officers from the town and had them watching his family just to be safe.

And the Joker, slippery bastard that he was, managed to slip away when Waylon Jones attacked Batman. Waylon had been taken back to Arkham but Crane hadn't been found yet. The whole thing was troubling. Batman had promised he'd go back to the sewers and fill him in on whatever he found but that had been hours ago. He supposed even heroes needed rest too.

For a moment Gordon considered calling Samantha and telling her the news but decided not to wake her. In a few hours he would.

The furor over Nash's murder had tied up many of the cops that normally patrolled the motel she was staying at and that thought made the guilt creep back in. God he hoped she was okay.

* * *

"This isn't a good place," she gasped. "If someone....comes...."

"Then I'll take care of 'em." His voice was a guttural snarl.

"Oh....okay then."

They were on the floor next to the bed. Samantha wasn't sure how it had happened and didn't really care. She didn't care that he would murder anyone who came to the door...not at the moment anyway. She was pinned underneath him, legs over his shoulders, her head banging into the bottom of the nightstand with every brutal thrust. There was hardly any pain and what little she felt only accentuated the...the....

_The wrongness. The beautiful fucking wrongness of this and how good it feels and I'm going to lose my mind and start screaming in a minute if I don't get a handle on myself. Can't help it. Can't help it._

The room was dark. In the gloom he could have been Jack, except for the harsh voice and smell of gasoline and smoke. She realized with a start that she preferred the Joker more and almost lost her concentration but the blood-stiffened leather of his gloves on her flesh brought her excitement back.

Her head banged harder into the nightstand as he moved faster and still she didn't care. In a moment she did scream, loudly enough to wake most of the motel's other residents up, and she didn't care about that either. Luckily he clamped a hand over her mouth, stifling the sound.

As she coasted down from her physical high she could hear his laughter. Demonic. Triumphant.

* * *

"You never answered me."

"What, about the vacation?" She laughed in disbelief.

"It isn't a _vacation_ Sam. Do I look like the kind of guy who goes on those? Hm?"

She conceded the point with a shrug. "Whatever you want to call it then. And I think my answer will have to be no."

A long silence. They were still on the floor, lying apart. Sam stared up at the ceiling and grinned as she imagined the look on his face.

He cleared his throat and she felt him staring at her. "No?"

"Yep. No."

More silence.

"Did the fear toxin or the pills scramble your brains Sam?"

"I think it was the toxin," she answered cheerfully. "Seems to have that effect on people doesn't it?"

Another long silence. Then:

"Oh, _now_ I get it. Cute, very cute. Trying to be difficult and all."

"No, not really. I'd just rather visit my dad in Florida is all." She glanced over at him. "Did you think what just happened would change my mind? If so, then I should really bow to the size of your...._ahem_...ego."

He glared over at her, his expression warring between disbelief and fury.

"You're the one who screamed." He finally said petulantly and she barely held back a laugh. The thing with Jack was he could seem charming, even endearing, and then he could turn into a monster...all in a second or less. She was treading dangerous water here.

"It isn't a good idea, for either of us," she explained. "I think maybe we should...."

"You _think?_" He went up on one elbow, eyes blazing. "No, you don't think Sam. _I do_. If you had your way you'd sit around in a room chasing a high for the rest of your, um, your fucking life." He paused, took a deep breath. When he resumed most of the fury was gone from his voice. "Look I offered you this deal because I think it might help."

"I don't want to go traipsing around the globe watching you and your droogs blowing things up and killing people. I've seen enough of that here. And help what exactly?"

She steeled herself for his reaction, for the inevitable anger. She didn't want to go with him though, and wasn't about to be manhandled into it.

_I want to visit my dad, as bad as that idea is. He can go on his little trip. Where the hell would he go anyway?_

The phone's insistent ringing saved her from whatever he was going to say.

"Shit," she said, reaching for it on the nightstand. "Don't say anything."

He smirked but remained silent.

When she answered Gordon's tired voice met her ears.

"Sam, did I wake you up?"

"No, it's okay." She looked at the clock radio next to the phone. 6:23 am. "I've been up for a while."

"Good. Look I have great news for you."

"Oh?"

"Dominic...he's awake. I was going to call you hours ago but had to reign myself in."

She resisted the urge to shoot a panicky look at Jack. "Oh my God, that's great!"

_Please don't let Jack remember the name thing. Oh please._

"You can't visit him anytime soon. Sorry. The......current circumstances won't allow it. Right now it's family only and an armed guard. You understand."

"Yeah of course. Tell him I said hi, will you do that? I mean, he knows I'm okay, right?"

"I'll do it and yes he knows. He was so worried about you Sam."

She winced. When she'd gotten over her distrust of him she'd grown to like Dominic and didn't want to see anything happen to him. The memory of Dr. Peloni shooting him still enraged her.

"I've been worried about him too."

_And I still am._

"Well I'll let you go, just wanted to tell you."

"Thanks. I'm so happy you did."

"Bye Sam."

"Bye."

Jack's eyes regarded her shrewdly as she hung up the phone. "Ah, your cop is awake. How nice."

"I can't believe you had that fucking old man shoot him."

"Oh sure, blame me for it. Anyway he was about to pull his gun on me, the doc was just trying to help me out."

Her mind raced. Jack didn't forget much, overlooked even less. If Dominic remembered that name and told Gordon they might dismiss it as a joke but they'd also research it just to be certain.

And then they'd know what _she_ knew. Jack, Joe, The Joker, would never allow that. He'd kill Dominic and everyone in the hospital before he'd let that happen.

A distraction maybe. It was grasping at straws but she didn't know what else to do.

"About that trip," she finally said. "I'll go...under the condition you let me go to Florida for a day or so."


	42. Field trip

**CHAPTER FORTY TWO**

_Field trip_

His eyes moved to the phone, then back to her face. A sly grin spread across his face. "Changed your mind awfully fast."

"I was considering it before the phone rang, just wanted to give you a hard time for a while before I gave in."

"Mm-hmm." He didn't look convinced, in fact he seemed to know exactly why she'd done it.

"Too much heat here. They won't leave me alone," she explained quickly. "They'll never leave me alone."

He appraised her coldly, the smile still on his face. His make-up was rubbed away except for the black around his eyes, giving him a death's head appearance.

_Just stick with your story. Do not deviate. Do not act worried about Dominic._

"So you want to go to see good old dad," his tone was contemptous. "Are you sure that's such a great idea? Does he even want to see _you_?"

"Yeah," she bristled. "I've talked to him. He asked me to visit him when I could. What's it to you anyway? That's my _father_."

He shrugged and she realized that meant nothing to someone like him. His father had been abusive and evil and Jack had killed him.

"I guess you wouldn't understand," she continued. "He's all I've got, the only family I have left. It would be nice to see how he's doing."

Jack sighed. "Maybe I wouldn't understand....I did sort of take a chainsaw to my family tree after all...but I still think it's a bad idea Sam. Do you think I've forgotten the things you told me about him? Hm? At least I'm upfront with you. Him on the other hand.....you don't know what he'll want from you."

"Well that's my problem and this is the only way I'll go on this field trip of yours."

"Field trip." He chuckled darkly.

She flipped over on her stomach, chin resting on her palm, ankles crossed in the air. "You said this trip would 'help'. What does that mean?"

"Did you realize you're still naked? 'Cause it's a little distracting."

"Oh gee, I thought I felt a draft. Come on now, tell me."

He sat up and fixed her with a strange look. "I'm not an animal Sam. You think I don't feel anything but hate and, um, _rage_. But you're wrong. True, I'm not the most.....hm, empathetic guy in the world but that doesn't mean I'm a _thing_ either."

Samantha raised an eyebrow. "I don't understand."

She wanted to tell him he was acting downright bizarre but decided to keep it to herself.

He continued. "You will. Now, back to business. You want to go see your dad? Fine. We leave tonight."

"Tonight? How the hell are we going to get to Florida anyway?"

"Drive." He said as if the answer were obvious.

"Gonna take a long time."

"Well I can't exactly get on a plane....as fun as it would be to try."

Samantha frowned. "You don't have to go down there with me you know. Might be risky to you."

In truth she didn't want him going with her. The thought of him being in the same state with her father made her uneasy.

"Oh but I want to. And it's no riskier than being in Gotham. Scared I'll hurt him? I won't."

Samantha said nothing.

"Tonight we'll take your car and leave it somewhere. Can't use it. We'll need something less conspicuous."

"The Barracuda isn't that bad."

"It's ancient, rusty and loud. A cop sees it and he'll want to pull it over."

"_You're_ the one who gave it to me. You gave me a cop magnet. Thanks!"

He shrugged. "And your point is _what_?"

"Nothing really. I just don't want to lose it."

"You won't lose it, it'll just be somewhere...safe."

"Like?" She prompted.

"Well, we'll have to stop by my current, uh, _residence_ to get a few things so maybe I'll just leave it there. Look, don't worry about it. Your car will be fine." He sounded exasperated.

She blanched. "Current residence" could only be one of his hideouts and she wasn't keen on seeing anymore of those for a while.

"You're gonna bring a flunkie along with us, aren't you?" She asked warily.

His eyes narrowed. "We need a driver. Neither one of us is gonna do it."

She was about to ask why, to argue with him, but he stopped her with an outstretched hand.

"It's fine Sam. Really. You got your deal. Now...we're gonna have to pass the time til tonight. Do you really want to pass it fighting over who's driving?"

She considered him for a moment. "No, that does sound a little tiresome." She finally admitted.

He bared his yellowed teeth in a grin. "Okay then."

"I'm getting on the bed though. This floor is hurting my back and I've probably got rug burns in some bad places."

"Rug burns huh? That should be nothing after what I've done to you."

Samantha inclined her head, sensing the game and ready to play it. "You're right. Hey, where's the switchblade? I feel like evening the score."

He smacked his lips thoughtfully, as if he were wondering if he could trust her with a knife. Finally he said:

"Now we're talking. Nothing like a little romance....especially if there's bloodshed involved."

* * *

"A warehouse. Very original." Samantha said dryly.

"Uh I wasn't thinking about being unique when I picked it out."

"Makes sense." She muttered as they entered the warehouse, stepping over a foul looking puddle in the doorway.

The building was immense. Cardboard boxes, cut wires and empty fifty gallon drums littered the floor. Samantha looked around for a few seconds, then crinkled her nose.

"Christ! What is that smell? Smells like something died in here."

Jack snickered, as if her remark amused him.

"Well...you're close. And I'm glad you mentioned that 'cause I almost forgot. There's something you've just _got_ to see."

He broke into laughter and pointed at a spot somewhere over the door they'd just entered.

Samantha turned to look. For a moment she couldn't tell what it was. Something hung over the doorway, a round object, strung up with what looked like picture hanging wire. Then the details became clearer.

Hair. White patches of bone interspersed with decaying flesh. Empty eye sockets and a gaping hole where a nose used to be.

Suddenly she understood the source of both the smell and the pool of viscous fluid on the floor.

"Did you know you've got a rotten human head hanging over your door?" She asked weakly.

"Not just any head," he smirked. "Not at all."

"Who is it?" She was alarmed she wasn't more shocked. Disgusted yes. And morbidly fascinated to boot. But not very shocked.

"I guess you wouldn't recognize him now would ya? It's _Glen_. You remember Glen don't you?"

She stared up at the grisly trophy and shook her head slowly.

"You really do carry a grudge don't you Jack?"

He pressed himself against her back, arms around her in a bizarre embrace.

"Like it?" He whispered into her hair, almost breathless with glee and....something else.

"Um....nice," she answered, unsure of what else to say. "How did you...I mean did you....uh..."

"Dug 'em up. Now _this_ is a field trip Sam. Isn't this fun?"

His arms tightened around her, then he was gone, sauntering through the warehouse and calling for someone named Jake.

"_Wow_." She mouthed silently, eyes still on Glen's head.

* * *

**A/N: **Glen's head. I love it. That is all.


	43. Florida

**A/N: **I guess I haven't been updating as often as usual, sorry about that. The holidays are a little nasty for me and I've been working on an original story (I know, right? Sorry Mr. J, I still love your crazy ass and will probably write about you and your sick predilections for cattle prods and severed heads forever).

**CHAPTER FORTY THREE**

_Florida _

They'd been on the road forever. Seventeen hours and thirty-eight minutes to be exact. Only three hurried stops, one so she could buy clothes, the other two for fast food and bathroom breaks. She'd half expected swarms of policeman to descend upon them each time.

She sat behind the driver's seat and stared off into space, wondering how she'd gotten into this situation and if seeing her father would be worth smelling Jake for over a thousand miles. The guy was sweating bullets and the odor of cheap cologne and BO kept wafting back to her.

The reason for his perspiration - Jack - sat motionless in the passenger seat, eyes shut, an odd grin on his make-up free face. He'd foregone his usual Joker attire for this trip and wore ill-fitting black pants and a dark gray shirt. Samantha stared at his rolled up shirt sleeves, admiring the smooth muscles of his arms, then the angles of his face.

"Getting close Sam," he said abruptly and turned to look at her. "Excited?"

She couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

"My heart is racing," she said solemnly. "This will be just like a movie. Crying, hugging....all that heartwarming shit. Hell, I might even introduce you to him. Won't that be fun?"

He regarded her with amusement. "Ya sound a little, uh, jaded babe."

She shrugged and he broke into a wide smile that made him look very young and....not dangerous. Even the angry pink of the scars seemed to vanish and his eyes were a warm brown instead of inky black.

All a lie of course. This was the Joker. The Joker in a good mood maybe but still the same guy who many thought was the devil himself.

She thought of Glen's head back at the hideout, a strand of picture wire going through his ears, and shivered. Jake's bloodshot eyes flashed to hers in the rearview mirror as if he'd caught the gesture, then flickered back to the road. He looked exhausted, forced to drive through several states almost nonstop with his dreaded employer next to him the entire time. Samantha felt sorry for him.

"I think your dad might...appreciate a guy like me," Jack continued. "What do you think Sam?"

"Knowing him you're probably right."

The last time she'd seen her father, before Jack has escaped from Arkham, he'd seemed impressed by her involvement with the Joker. Proud. He'd shown up at her house, pregnant junkie girlfriend in tow, and tried to wheedle money and drugs from her before she'd sent him away. He'd went back to Florida where he and his girlfriend had both been put in jail for drug offenses. She'd had the baby - Sam's half sister - in jail and it had been put into foster care.

_Where it needs to stay. Far far away from me and dad. I hope that kid never finds out who she's related to._

She'd called her dad before they left Gotham to let him know she was coming. He'd sounded pleased but somehow sad. Odd for him. He was always happy, no matter what. The police would come and raid the house when she was a kid and her dad was still his amiable self. She'd be pulled to the police station to await her grandparents and dad would still smile. Nothing ever bothered him. He was carefree, amoral, charming. Invincible.

And she'd loved him immensely, even when she watched him sell heroin and beat people who owed him. Even when he told her she'd make a good addition to his operation when she got older. None of it had mattered. He'd spoiled her, doted on her, treated her like she was a mini adult and she'd loved him for it.

And then he'd left her and her mother one day. Just left without a word. He'd taken off with a very young woman and never looked back. Samantha changed her mind about him after that. The smooth exterior, the superficial charm and movie-star looks had been a mask, covering up the face of a cold-hearted selfish bastard.

She remembered her mother's despair and pain, of her struggling to make ends meet and her hands clenched into fists. Her mother and father had always had an open relationship, if one of them wanted to screw around with someone else that was fine but they'd always come home to each other. That arrangement had worked out well for years until her dad had decided to leave.

And the worst part: He'd deserted the woman he ran away with, left her stranded in another state with no money and no car. All the pain he'd left behind and he hadn't even cared about the girl. Sam's mother had laughed gleefully about that but Sam had felt shame and pity for the woman when she'd heard about it.

As a child she'd seen her mother as a villain, strident, ultra-practical. Destroyer of all things fun. Now in the hard light of adulthood she could see her mother was overworked and exhausted, married to an addict/dealer who loathed conventional jobs and who didn't think twice about exposing their only child to a life of crime.

_I'm so sorry mom that I never took your side when I was a kid. How alone you must have felt. And now you're gone, now you can't know how bad I feel._

Her throat tightened and she took a deep breath. Now wasn't the time to feel bad or dwell on things. There were too many other things she had to worry about. Like Dominic and where Jack wanted to go after she visited her dad.

"Look at you. You're a mess. I told ya seeing him is a bad idea. Don't you remember what I told you in Arkham? Hm? That he never deserved you?" Jack's voice transformed into a snarl. "He walked out on you like you were _nothing_ Sam.....walked out and went on with his life. Fuck him."

She met Jack's stare evenly. "I know what he did. But no matter what he did I still love him. Just like I do you. Understand?"

Jake made a surprised noise and Jack shot him a deadly glare before looking back at her. He said nothing but she could practically see the thoughts whirring and clicking into place in his mind.

"Besides," she continued. "There's no telling when I'll see him again. Right? This vacation could be a long one." She smiled at him innocently.

For a few seconds he regarded her, then he finally spoke.

"I'm not sure what you're up to Sam but I have to admit....you're tricky when you want to be. The question is...can you trick me?"

Samantha leaned back in the seat. "That's for me to know and you to sit around and wonder about. Hey, what do you say about stopping at a motel after my visit is over? I need a shower. We can talk then. That is if you want to talk." She shifted her eyes to Jake, knowing he was listening. "Or we can do other things. Like......"

"Enough." His eyes darkened to their usual black, pupils dilating in anger and desire.

"What? Don't you want to bend me over the bed and...."

"Shut up." His voice was murderous. He had a hang-up about his men finding out about their relationship. Particularly the sex part. To him it was a weakness, a potential chink in his demigod status.

Up front Jake's eyes were wide but he looked like he was holding back a snicker. She could only imagine what he was thinking.

_Ok, fun's over. Don't push him too much. He'll make you pay later._

Satisfied, Sam looked away from Jack and stared out the window.


	44. Ben

**A/N: **Thanks to my readers and reviewers! Love you all!

**CHAPTER FORTY FOUR**

_Ben_

"Just let me off here and come back in an hour or so." Samantha said. "There's no way you can come in with me."

"Aww come on. He'll love me." Jack sneered, mock sorrow on his face. "I'm what he always _wished_ he could be."

"Funny. Just do it, okay? Give me some time."

She glanced at her father's trailer nervously, wondering if he were looking out the window at the minivan idling in his driveway.

"I'm coming in with you Sam. If ya don't like it then we can just drive on and forget about this....." He fluttered his hand nonchalantly, as if to say it didn't really matter to him either way.

"This wasn't part of the deal Jack. You never mentioned this. Matter of fact I believe you decided to come in with me on the spur of the moment because you think....."

"That's right. I did. Because I don't trust you. You got your duffel bag of money in your lap like you'll need it in _there_," he nodded at the trailer. "Who's to say you don't sneak out the back door? Hm? No. I'm going in with you. Your dad's not gonna say a word."

"Fucker." She snarled under her breath.

"Tell you what, I'll stay in a different room so you two can relive your happy, um, memories in privacy. I don't really care to hear them anyway. No offense."

He arched an eyebrow, awaiting her response. Samantha glowered at him, realizing she had no options. Jack would come or they'd just leave Tampa and the trip would be for nothing.

"Fine but don't do anything to him. No matter what is said or done you just stay out of it. Okay?"

"Now Sam, you know I'd _never_ lay a hand on your dad. What do you take me for?"

She shook her head, trying to control her anger. "Can we just go? His neighbors are gonna start wondering why there's a van with three people just sitting in his driveway."

"It's a trailer park...no one cares what we're doing here." Jack shot a look at Jake. "Park across the street and wait for us. I'll be watching, so don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Sure boss." Jake gave Jack a furtive glance, nodding his head eagerly.

"Soooo," Jack turned his attention back to Sam and rubbed his hands together eagerly. "Let's go say hi to the old man, hm?"

* * *

"Well there's my girl. Damn, you look tired."

"Driving from Gotham to Tampa in a minivan nonstop is a little tiresome." She answered dryly. Jack was close behind her and she tried not to think about it. Instead she focused on the unpleasant smell in the mobile home and on her dad's emaciated face and body. It seemed that his last stint in jail hadn't been kind to him.

_Dad's gonna know who he is. The scars will give him away. Hopefully he'll just roll with it and not say anything stupid._

Her father's eyes flickered to Jack, to the duffel bag clutched in her hands, then back to her. His drawn face was perfectly calm.

"You brought a friend." He said simply.

"Hi _Ben_." Jack's tone was mild.

He nodded in Jack's direction, never taking his eyes off Samantha. "I was expecting that you'd be alone."

"I was hoping I would be," she answered, unable to keep the annoyance from her voice. "But my _friend_ here decided to tag along."

Ben crossed his arms and inclined his head. "Is he gonna piss me off while he's here?"

Jack snorted. "Can we stop talking about me like I'm not here? Geez Sam, does rudeness run in your family?"

Samantha turned around to give him a dirty look but he was paying no attention to her. His eyes were locked on her father, his expression speculative.

_Great. A staredown between these two. Territorial pissings, exactly what I was afraid would happen._

"Dad," she turned back to Ben. "I think we should go in another room. Ja.....uh my friend will stay in the living room. He won't bother us. Right?"

"Uh....right." Jack muttered. He rested one hand on her shoulder and she heard him lick his lips noisily.

Ben made a face. "Let's go in the kitchen then."

* * *

"You brought him here? Why Sam?"

"I didn't have a choice. It was either let him come in or not see you at all. He won't do anything, I promise. Just be cool."

Ben nodded, staring down at the scarred wooden tabletop. "I can't believe you came. Thought you hated me y'know."

"No dad. How could I hate you? I might dislike you sometimes but hate? Nah. So how'd you get out of jail so fast this time?"

In the kitchen's fluorescent light she could see how terrible he looked. His yellowish skin was stretched tightly over the bones of his face and his eyes were sunken and dull. The tshirt he wore was too big, making him look old and frail.

_This man doesn't look like my father. In the span of less than a year he's aged twenty years._

Of course she wasn't too surprised. He was close to sixty and had a lifetime of hard living behind him. Even so....seeing him like this sent a twinge of regret and concern through her.

"They let me out because I'm sick. Hepatitis C, emphysema. They even said I might have cancer," he smiled ruefully. "Looks like my time's finally coming huh? After all those years pushing my luck."

She swallowed thickly. "Oh my God."

"Don't say you're sorry. Please don't. I did it to myself. But hey, I'm clean now," he held his arms out for her to see. "A little late, sure, but at least I'll die clean. Think that'll count for something with the man upstairs?" He smiled widely but his eyes were solemn.

Now she understood the odor in the trailer. It was the smell of sickness and impending death.

"Dad." She began and stopped. What could she say? He gazed at her and she was struck by how _different_ he was. No longer the charming, amoral outlaw, now he seemed.....soft. Full of regret.

"Dad," she tried again. Her throat was tight, eyes burning fiercely. "What can I do?"

He shook his head, still smiling, and his hand found hers over the tabletop. "You can't do anything Sammy. And why would you want to? Look what I did to you, look what I made you a part of. If I hadn't been such a bad influence maybe _this_ wouldn't have happened." He jutted his chin towards the room where Jack sat. "Maybe your mother would still be alive. I put her through a lot of stress you know. No, I deserve this. You know I do."

"No," she whispered furiously. "No you don't deserve this. Can you afford treatments? I have money."

His rough hand stroked hers and his ravaged face looked serene. "I'm broke Sammy but it doesn't matter. I'm dying. Nothing can change it. I'm too far gone."

"No. Look, it'll be fine. I can help you. Anything you need I can do it. You're _not_ dying."

"I am. I'm sorry honey but I am."

Samantha tore her eyes away from him. At one time she'd wished for this. But now......

"This can't be happening," she murmured. The tears threatened to come and she tried to will them away. "Are you sure? You've been to a doctor?"

"Yes. They said three months. That was almost six months ago."

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked angrily.

"What good would it have done? And everything that's happened to you, do you think I was going to make it worse? Anyway, I wanted to tell you in person. And I'm so glad you came honey. So glad."

His voice was warm and peaceful. Not her father at all.

She started to say something and realized there was no point. Then the tears came. She sat there, her father's hand in hers, and cried.

In the other room Jack hummed softly to himself.


	45. Contingencies

**CHAPTER FORTY FIVE**

_Contingencies_

"Don't cry Sammy," Ben said. "It doesn't suit you."

Samantha wiped her eyes. She felt like a kid again, unable to stop her emotions. "I know."

He smiled and withdrew his hand from hers. Casting a swift look in Jack's direction he stood up and went to the kitchen counter. "Want something to drink?"

"No," she murmured absently. "I'm okay."

When he sat down again she saw he had a pad of paper and pen in his hand.

"Let's talk about something nicer," he suggested. "Like the old days."

He pointed at the pen and paper, eyes boring into hers. The unspoken message was clear:

_We'll talk about bullshit while we get down to business. _He_ doesn't need to know._

Jack was still humming. Samantha couldn't see him but she could imagine him sitting there, probably fidgeting and keeping a watchful eye on Jake through the window.

"Okay."

Ben nodded and began to talk, something about going to the lake when she was very young. He began to write.

When he pushed the paper to her Samantha's breath caught in her throat at what he'd written.

_We can end it. I have a gun._

Her eyes went to his as he spoke. He continued with his story, watching her expectantly.

And for a fleeting moment she actually considered it. True freedom. No more conflict, no more uncertainty. No more Joker.

Then, just as quickly, a flash of guilt and horror. No, she couldn't do that. It was cowardly and wrong, as laughable as that was.

Jack wouldn't do that to her. Besides, he probably knew something like this would happen and was just waiting to see what they'd do. She pictured him sitting in the tiny living room, a grenade or shotgun in his hands.

"_No_." She mouthed, shaking her head.

Ben frowned but didn't pause in his story. Barely concealing a frustrated sigh, she took the pen and wrote:

_You don't understand. Trust me. I won't let you do that._

Ben arched his eyebrows when he read her words. Then he motioned for the pen impatiently.

_Why not? And say something out loud so he doesn't get suspicious._

Samantha took a deep breath. "I remember that. You thought I was gonna drown."

Ben nodded at the pen and paper, awaiting her answer.

_I just can't._ She scribbled. Jack's humming continued but her heart beat furiously. If he came in and saw what they were doing........

_Come on. Gun is on me. I'll do it. Don't be afraid._

_Not afraid. _She shoved the paper at him and leaned back in her chair, arms crossed.

Her father's eyes rose from the paper to appraise her. And in that moment he_ knew_.

"You have feelings for him?" He asked out loud, interrupting the story.

Samantha's eyes went wide. If Jack heard he gave no indication.

"He'll kill you Sammy," her dad continued. "Look at the marks on your neck. Yeah I see 'em and I know he did 'em. You're covered in marks aren't you? He hurts you."

She narrowed her eyes. "We hurt each other."

Ben shuddered. The regret crept back into his face and Sam knew exactly what he was thinking. This was his fault. He raised her for this kind of future. All his fault.

"Don't blame yourself," she whispered. "I know exactly what I'm doing."

He ran his hands through his graying hair. Sorrow was etched into every line of his face and he looked as if he might cry.

"I wanted better for you," he said in a broken voice. "I never wanted _this_."

"I know dad. Everything will be fine. I'm gonna take care of you, okay? Don't worry."

"You sound like I used to."

She smiled. "We're a lot alike."

"That's not necessarily a good thing."

Samantha shrugged. "I'm going to give you some money. A _lot_ of money. Go get a second opinion, buy yourself some food."

"No, I don't want it."

"Too bad. You're not going through this alone. I'll be around. Always. I won't leave you."

The humming stopped and their eyes flashed to the other room. Nothing happened and eventually they turned their attention to each other.

Samantha unzipped the duffel bag and began pulling out stack after stack of bills. Her father's eyes bulged at the sight of the cash.

"It's unmarked and it's mine," she assured him. "Perfectly safe. I'll be back tomorrow......." She thought she heard a snarl in the other room and ignored it. "and we'll talk some more. Promise."

"You don't have to do this Sammy."

"Yeah I do," she pushed the money across the table, roughly half of the bag's contents and got up. "Let's not have any drawn out goodbyes, okay? I hate those. I'll see you tomorrow."

"One more thing," Ben lowered his voice. "What I offered to do....that was my gift to you. He probably would have killed me too....but what a way to go! And you....you think I don't understand but I do. Which is why you should have let me do it."

Samantha stood frozen, unsure of what to say. He'd been willing to die to rid her of Jack. His gift to her.

"Come on Sam." Jack had moved behind her and the sound of his voice made her start.

Ben eyed the other man with barely concealed disgust. "You know....I keep my windows open, to watch the wildlife outside. Squirrels, birds...all that Walt Disney shit. I should have known she was bringing _you_ along when they all went quiet and hid this morning."

Jack sucked his teeth and giggled. "Ah, that's hilarious. So tell me....how's your liver doing?"

"Hey," Samantha warned. "Let's just go. Enough of this. I love you dad." She pushed Jack towards the door and he cooperated, smiling over his shoulder at her father.

"Another thing," Ben called as they left. "If you want to blend in you're doing a bad job. Your hair is still green. Oh, and you're just as ugly without the make-up."

"Christ." Samantha muttered between clenched teeth. Did he have a death wish?

Jack laughed as they walked out into the humid night. "Now I see where you get it. Your old man's a real bastard." His tone was borderline affectionate.

"Yeah you two seem to get along just great." Samantha forced herself to sound unbothered. "About as great as _we_ do. Now can we go get a room? I'm not sleeping in that van again. We have a few things to discuss anyway."

"Mm-hm," he growled, his mood suddenly changing for the worse. "We sure do."


	46. We never change

**A/N: **I want to thank everyone who has reviewed this story and sent me PMs. It makes me feel good knowing people are enjoying it. If anyone wants to chat you can find me on Yahoo and AIM under oc1971jn.

**CHAPTER FORTY SIX**

_We never change_

"I'm going back in the morning," she told Jack. "Go do what you want. I'm not leaving him to die alone."

"Yeah I know, I know. And I'm telling you right now Sam....bad idea. Just like I told ya coming to see him was a bad idea."

He was pacing the floor of the cheap motel room they'd gotten for the night - Jake was staying in an adjacent room - and Samantha could see he was none too happy at the idea of her staying in Florida. She didn't care. Jack could threaten her, throw a fit of epic proportions, blow up half of Tampa and it wouldn't change her mind. She was staying.

"Why was it such a terrible idea?" She sat up on the bed and cocked her head at him. "Because it took my attention away from you?"

He stopped his pacing and eyed her angrily. "No. Because he's suckering you in. Like he _always _has_._ And before you know it he'll be wanting more money and favors and for you to do his dirty work for him since he's too sick and decrepit to hack it now."

"First off he didn't ask for that money. I gave it to him. He's broke. And secondly, fuck you for saying what you just said. Seriously, _fuck you_. That's my dad and he's dying. What do you expect me to do, abandon him? For you?"

"You know, if you were anyone else I'd burn you alive for talking to me that way."

"So you've told me before. But you won't, so that's a moot point isn't it?"

Actually she wasn't sure about that but didn't want him to see her uncertainty.

_If he were going to burn you alive he would have done it a long time ago. The truth is he doesn't want you away and he'll pull out all the stops to keep you around._

And the funny part was she didn't want to be away from him either.

"He's not going to be alive much longer. And when the time comes I'll be around for you. Don't you realize that?"

His gaze was inscrutable. "You're gonna get hurt Sam. He's gonna hurt you. And when it happens who are you gonna run to? Huh? _Me_."

"How will he hurt me?" She hissed, throwing her hands in the air. "He's not in any kind of shape to do much. Not to mention he's clean now. He's changed."

Jack smiled wanly. "In case you haven't noticed we're all alike. Me, you and him. And you know the thing about us? We never change."

She paused, knowing the truth of his words but still wanting to refute them.

"It doesn't matter," she finally said. "Even if he's the same....he's my father. I don't have anyone else."

Jack snorted contemptuously and shook a lock of hair from his face. "Wow, that's heartbreaking. Really. And a little, um, insulting. Who's given you everything you've asked for? Hm? Hasn't been _him_."

"You're right," she conceded, not bothering to remind him her dad had never taken a cattle prod to her either. "But I still have to do this. It doesn't change anything between us Jack. We'll still be as wonderfully fucked up as ever. We'll just be....alone for a while."

That seemed to rile him. "Haven't you considered that Gordon is gonna miss you? He'll look for you here....and when he finds you what are you gonna say?"

Samantha shrugged. "I'll worry about that later."

* * *

The next morning Jake drove them back to her dad's trailer. Jack was quiet but Sam could see the fury boiling beneath his nonchalant expression. He hadn't counted on this and she knew that annoyed him.

_So close to getting me to do what _he_ wants and now that's out the window. I'll bet he hates my dad with a passion. Come to think of it maybe I should be a little worried about that._

But she knew Jack wouldn't hurt her father. Not because he was her father, mainly because Jack knew if he did she'd hate him. She'd go to Gordon with everything she knew. He'd have to kill her to shut her up. Even Jack had his limits.

Sometimes.

"So what now?" Jack asked her. "You just gonna trot in there and say 'Hi daddy, I'm moving in'?"

"No. I'm going to talk to him, tell him I'm going to stay in town for a while."

She slid open the van's rear door and looked at Jack pointedly. "If you want to leave me here go ahead. We can catch up later." She wanted to say more but Jake's presence stopped her.

He barely glanced at her. Jake stared ahead uneasily, sensing his boss's anger.

She slammed the door shut and headed for the trailer. She knocked a few times and waited but there was no response. The morning sun was hot and after a moment she tried the door. Unlocked. Casting a final look over her shoulder at the van she went inside.

The first thing she noticed was the absolute stillness. The tiny living room was dark and utterly silent.

"Dad?" She called. He was probably still asleep. He'd never been an early riser and........

Then she came into the kitchen and stopped short.

He was seated at the kitchen table, in the same place he'd been when they'd talked the previous day.

Outside the van idled and birds sang. Sunlight beamed through the dirty kitchen window.

Her father was slumped back in the chair, eyes half open, lips parted as if he'd seen something so wondrous it had frozen him. On the table before him sat a hypodermic needle, a baggie of off-white powder, a burnt spoon and a Bic lighter.

For a moment she was pinioned into place, then as the truth hit her she began to reel.

He was dead. Not only that but he'd used the money she'd given him to buy enough smack to kill himself, of that she was certain. And he'd done it on purpose, of that she was absolutely certain.

_He was going to take himself out by going after Jack and you stopped him. He wanted to go out with a bang. And he did, he took your money and he killed himself in the best way he could. Back in the embrace of his first love: heroin._

He'd killed himself, knowing she'd find him. He knew and he'd still done it. And she'd helped him do it.

Dizzy, suddenly unable to breathe, she slumped to the floor. Her eyes were locked on his white face. Shock and an odd feeling of betrayal numbed her to the bone.

_Enjoy it because what you'll be feeling in a little while will be hell on earth._

'_Why_?' She wanted to ask him. But she knew why. Didn't make it any better though.

_'We never change.'_ Jack had told her.

How right he'd been.


	47. Hm

**A/N: **Jack/Joker's PoV in this chapter. Oh and happy New Year's! Love y'all!

**CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN**

_Hm_

He'd known something like this would happen. Hadn't he told her? What had he said to her....oh right: _"You're gonna get hurt Sam. He's gonna hurt you. And when it happens who are you gonna run to? Huh? Me."_

And now here they were, holed up in a shady motel room just outside Tampa, unable to do anything because Sam was borderline catatonic and would do nothing but eat pills and stare off into space. She'd been that way for two days, since her dad had went to that big poppy field in the sky, and she showed no signs of getting better. Getting her to eat was a chore he left to Jake. Jake could cajole her into taking a few bites of a hamburger, although he suspected she ate them because she didn't want Jake to suffer for failing.

He tried to reason with her and she'd just look at him with dull, dead eyes. She blamed herself, which was stupid. Had _she_ jabbed a needle in her father's arm and pumped him full of drugs until he croaked? Nope. But he couldn't make her understand that.

Her hope was gone, her fight was gone. He was an old pro at recognizing the weak and wounded and she was now one of them. If it were anyone else he'd find it funny, would savor the pain. Unfortunately he couldn't do that with her, instead he felt _troubled. _Each time he looked at her a feeling of unease gnawed at him. He was _worried_ about her. Genuinely _worried_.

He looked over at her from his seat on the floor and sighed. She just sat there on the bed, blank-faced and utterly empty. And he had to wonder....what if she were like this forever? He couldn't drag her around like this, might as well carry a corpse around with him. What if she'd finally had all she could take and now she was just....done?

"Psst. Hey Sam."

Nothing.

He gnawed his bottom lip thoughtfully. What to say? That she was taking her dad's demise a bit too hard? Something told him that wouldn't go over too well. Then again....maybe if he said something harsh she might snap out of it. Hm. He'd try it if she didn't get better soon.

"You know, I'm sorry about Ben. Really. But, ah, you can't do this to yourself. 'Cause you don't deserve it. He decided to off himself, knowing you'd find him. Does that sound like someone you should destroy yourself over? So cut it out with the angst."

He paused, pleased with himself. So far so good. And people thought he couldn't be sensitive. However Samantha said nothing, gave no indication of even hearing him. Hm. Time for another approach.

"Come on babe. It'll be okay, hm? We can go to, uh, we can go to Los Angeles. I'll blow the Hollywood sign up, you'll love it."

Nothing.

This was getting aggravating. He couldn't reason with her, couldn't make her laugh - he'd been certain the Hollywood comment would amuse her - and he was running out of ideas. Then he thought of how he'd found her in her dad's trailer. She'd been kneeling on the floor as if the wind had been knocked out of her. Ben had been at the kitchen table, dead as could be. When he'd pulled her up he'd expected her to fight him, to tell him this was his fault. Instead she'd collapsed into him, face buried in his shoulder, her body crushed against his. She wasn't crying but her breathing was shallow and fast, borderline hysterical.

"Why did he do that?" She'd asked him, pointing at her dad. "Tell me. _Why would he do that_?" Her voice had been frantic, teetering on the edge of madness.

He hadn't answered, too surprised by her clinginess and disgusted at what Ben had done to say anything. Instead he'd taken her away. When they'd driven for a while she'd calmed down and withdrawn into herself.

He stared at her.

_Say something. Look at me. Do something. I'm out of ideas here._

"Samantha," he exhaled and rubbed his hands together. "I don't know what to do for you. But, um, I don't like this. What do you want from me? Huh? Say it and I'll do it. Because you're tearing yourself to pieces over him and I don't want to see it. I want you to talk to me, to be normal again. Can you do that?"

Embarrassing. He meant it but it wasn't exactly his style to blurt things like that out.

_Next tactic will be to tell Sam her old man was a bastard and I should have killed him with my bare hands. Would have saved her a lot of grief. Matter of fact, if I keep thinking about this I'll go get his head. Glen could use a little company._

She turned her head and looked at him, really looked, for the first time in two days. Dark circles shadowed her eyes and her long hair was a tangled mess. She was scruffy yet beautiful and he fought the urge to plant a brutal kiss on her mouth.

"Sometimes I think I'm dreaming all this," she murmured. "Of course I know I'm not but............" She trailed off and shook her head.

"You're back," he said. "I thought I'd have to check you back into Arkham."

She smiled faintly. "No, I'm not back. Not all the way. Not ever." Her voice trembled and her gaze grew distant. He felt like she was unfocusing from him again, tuning into her own little world.

"Sam. Hey." He sat down next to her and snapped his fingers to get her attention. "You gotta come back. Okay? I got no one to talk to. Jake is too stupid to hold a conversation."

This time she didn't smile. She didn't say anything. Instead she started to cry. It was a desolate, mournful sound and all he could do was sit there and listen. He wasn't equipped for this kind of thing. She was disintigrating and he didn't understand why, didn't care why. All he knew was that he was losing her. A few more days of this and he would find her dead too.

"I'm alone," she whispered. "So alone."

He wanted to tell her she wasn't but he couldn't. That would be a lie. She _was_ alone, just as he was. Nothing would change that.

"If it makes you feel any better, we're alone together." He draped an arm over her shoulders. Instead of stiffening or pulling away she leaned against him.

Hm. Maybe he wasn't so bad at this comforting thing after all.


	48. Blunted effect

**CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT**

_Blunted effect_

"Damnit," Gordon whispered to himself. "_Goddamnit_." The images on the television screen danced before his eyes. When he'd found out Samantha was missing from the motel room she'd been sequestered in he'd not only put out an APB for her but had also requested surveillance videos from the motel parking lot. What he'd found had validated his suspicions. She'd left, then come back hours later with a suspicious looking man following her. Then they reappeared on the video a day later leaving, presumably taking her car which was out of the camera's line of sight. Gotham's forensic lab had enlarged and sharpened the grainy picture but they needn't have bothered. Even with the image's poor quality the man was unmistakably the Joker.

"I'm finished with her," Gordon muttered, as much to himself as to Batman. "I tried to help her, took cops off their regular beats to keep an eye on her and she leaves with him. The next time I see her I'm going to have her arrested. Any idea on where they'd go?"

"No. Something tells me they've left the city though." Batman walked stiffly to the door of the MCU's conference room. He'd been hurt in the fight with Waylon Jones. The man had been apprehended and sent back to Arkham but it hadn't been easy. Waylon had caught him by surprise and if it hadn't been for his body armor the Batman would have been seriously injured, maybe even killed.

"Crane doesn't seem to be too upset does he? He even seemed relieved to be back at Arkham. He and Waylon have both been pretty quiet since you caught them." Gordon mused. "Two guesses who left Crane handcuffed in the sewers. I wonder why he's even alive at this point."

Gordon had been to Arkham to question both Jones and Crane. The former snarled and ranted about how he wanted to devour the Batman, the latter merely fixed him with an imperious glare and laughed at him.

"I'm guessing the Joker was saving him for later. If you'd seen how happy Crane looked to see me......"

Gordon chuckled. "He may change his mind after sitting in Level Three for a few weeks."

"That's what I'm counting on. How's your nephew?"

"Doing a lot better. He doesn't remember anything except leaving the tunnel and Dr. Peloni shooting him. The doctor is another one I'd like to find, or at least that intern girl. Harleen. I'll guarantee you they left together and if you find one you find the other."

Batman nodded curtly and slipped out of the room.

Gordon turned his attention back to the television screen. The surveillance footage played on a continuous loop. He studied it, trying to find any sign that Sam had been forced to leave. He could find none.

* * *

"Jake says you're off your feed, that you won't eat anything now. Care to tell me why?"

"I'm not hungry." She didn't look at him, her gaze fixed somewhere on the wall.

"Not hungry. Okay, fine. You want to starve I'll let you. But we can't stay here Sam. I'm a busy man, things to do, people to, uh, _see_. So what I need to know is are you gonna be a liability to me? Hm?"

He'd tried and tried to reach her, to no avail. They'd been in this motel for four days now and he was getting edgy. Jake took care of paying for the rooms and keeping the housekeepers away but every extra day they stayed here was a day wasted. Not to mention the risk. He didn't mind risks, not at all, but he didn't want to go out like this.

"I'll eat...eventually."

He grunted and ran the point of his knife under his nails. "Well you sure got an appetite for the pills. You're gonna run out and then where will you be? Hm?"

She shrugged. "You'll give me more."

He narrowed his eyes at her but she ignored him. "Maybe I won't. Believe it or not Sam, I don't want you to wind up like Ben."

She winced and he felt a little bad. Her pain was evident and he'd tried everything to make her feel better. And he was failing. That was troubling, it was as if he weren't _enough_ anymore. How could he bring a city to its knees yet be unable to help her? Sometimes he wondered if he were going soft, then he'd remind himself that he was doing this for himself as much as her. That made it easier. How true it was...that was another story.

The fact was he hated what was happening to her. He'd never been able to break her, despite everything that had happened to her because of him, and now she was wasting away over losing her father, who had never even deserved her. An over the hill drug dealer and thug had managed to injure her in a way he never could. Not that he'd want to hurt her this way, but knowing she might feel enough about him to break down over losing him.....that was an appealing thought.

_Jealous of her dead father? That's a good one._

He rolled his eyes at the thought and patted Sam's knee. For a second her gaze flickered to his hand, then she went back to her usual thousand yard stare.

"We're leaving today," he spoke slowly but firmly, letting her know in no uncertain terms what was going to happen. "You're coming. Can't leave you here. We may go back to Gotham since you're not..._suitable_ for travel or we may go somewhere else. That's up to _me_. Understand?"

That was sure to get her ruffled.

"Fine with me," she answered in an impassive voice. "I don't care."

His hands clenched into fists and he rose quickly from the bed. The frustration was too much, she wouldn't talk, he was stuck here, no fun to be had and she cared about _nothing_.

"You don't care?" He hissed, all the anger he'd been reigning in since meeting Ben was spilling over and he couldn't control it. "Oh I'll make you care. You'll care when I drag Jake in here and cut him to pieces in front of you. You'll care when........" He was saying all the wrong things but wasn't able to stop himself. It felt _good_ to let the rage out.

"Stop Jack." She said softly. "Come back here and sit down next to me."

She held her hand out, eyes meeting his.

He hesitated. "Why?" He was genuinely confused, expecting anger or at least exasperation.

"You need someone to talk to, don't you? Or is it.....something else you need?"

"Uh, both." He answered honestly, baffled by her behavior.

Samantha smiled, but it didn't touch her eyes, desolation still filled them.

"So do I," she told him. "So come here. Please."

And he did.


	49. Metamorphosis

**CHAPTER FORTY NINE**

_Metamorphosis_

They were returning to Gotham. He hadn't intended to go back for a while, a few months perhaps, but the circumstances demanded it. Samantha would make a horrible traveling companion right now, she was quietly losing her mind and would barely speak.

He turned his head to study her. She looked out the van's window, eyes locked on the landscape speeding past but not really seeing anything.

And he knew, as well as he'd ever known anything, that when she snapped out of it she'd be different. In what ways he wasn't sure but he figured she'd care a lot less about things. That wouldn't be bad, just as long as they still had conflict. Conflict was something he had to have from her, that gleam of scorn in her eyes, her cutting remarks. He loved that, wanted to both hurt and adore her because of it. Since he'd become....ahem.... _famous_ he noticed no one challenged him anymore. Well, no one except her and the Bat. Everyone else was dogs, cringing and rolling over for him, lapping up whatever he dished out with nary a word. Boring.

She had to feel him staring yet she ignored him. That made him like her even more. He let his gaze linger on her face, taking in her angular features, her narrow green eyes. She was a damn good-looking woman, he had to admit. Imperious yet appealing. Her dark blond hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail and he wanted to pull it, yank her head back so her lips would be offered up to him. He could bite and lick and............

He thought of how good she was with a knife. A long time ago she'd flatly refused to use it on him but eventually she'd come around and enjoyed it. She could take pain and dish it out, yet still managed to be one of _them_. In a way it was admirable. He thought of all those years ago and how unafraid she'd been of him, even when he'd requested certain _things_ from her.

_How many times have you wanted to kill her? How many times do you think she's wanted to kill you?_

But that's what made it fun wasn't it?

"Why are you staring at me?"

He shook the thoughts from his head and cast a suspicious look at his driver. Jake drove on, eyes fixed on the road.

"Why not?" He looked back to Sam. "Got a problem with it?"

She smiled, that damn 'I know exactly what you were thinking' smile of hers. "Nope. So.....we're going back to Gotham?"

"Mm-hm."

"Why?"

It was his turn to smile. "I told ya, you're not suitable for travel. Besides....I've got a problem to take care of. Been thinking about what to do with this, um, _loose end_ and I've made my decision."

Of course he was talking about the cop, that Dominic guy Dr. Peloni had shot. Samantha was worried about him and with good reason. The guy had seen his real name. He'd thought it would be amusing to use it on a name tag but hadn't considered someone seeing it and not dying. Oh well, made things more interesting. If Gordon and the Batman found out who he really was....well that would be disappointing, he had to admit. Anonymity was a nice way to live, especially for a guy like him. But then again a little uncertainty was good for him, it would keep him from getting complacent. Patches made that mistake, he liked comfort way too much and thought his fear toxin would give him the necessary edge. Now he was handcuffed to a pipe in the sewers, unless Batman had found him. If he had, no big deal. He'd catch up to Patches eventually.

"Loose end." Samantha sighed and turned her attention back to the window. She was finished talking.

* * *

_'Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right. Here I am, stuck in the middle with you.'_

Samantha grinned to herself at the song on the radio. Neither Jake or Jack seemed to notice.

They were going back to Gotham so Jack could kill Dominic, there was no doubt about it. This was what she had feared, the reason she'd agreed to leave with him.

And now......now she didn't have the energy to care. She tried to shame herself and it didn't work. There was nothing. It was all too much work now and she knew that should worry her.

_Its shock. That's all. Your dad killed himself, of course you're going to be fucked up._

Thinking of her father sent coils of sorrow and anxiety in her chest and she put him out of her head. Up front Jack fidgeted in the passenger seat of the van. He wasn't paying attention to her now and she was relieved. When he looked at her it was with a smirk, as if he knew something she didn't.

_He thinks you're going crazy._

But she wasn't. It was more like parts of her were dying, slowly strangling and withering. The pills dulled her trepidation a little.

_Everything that's happened since Jack showed up has taken its toll. No one could go through what I have and stay the same, stay normal. Might as well just roll with it. It isn't like I'll lose my humanity and become a monster. Right?_

She'd been looking into the abyss for a while now. Who was to say being around someone like Jack wouldn't taint her?

No, that was stupid. She knew right from and wrong. The problem was....sometimes she didn't care. The problem was........

_When you were staying with Jack in the farmhouse you heard him torturing a guy with an electric knife. Oh, and you still stayed there, still fucked him. Still loved him. If you lose what's left of your soul you're screwed, because you never had much of a soul to begin with._

"I'd just looooove to know what's going on in that head of yours," Jack's voice interrupted her thoughts. "But you'll never tell, will you?"

"I might. Just not right now."

He snickered. "Who said I wanted to know right now?"

She knew he was saying that because of Jake and decided a change of subject was in order.

"Gordon and the Batman are going to be looking for you and me. I'm assuming you're prepared for that, and for any bullshit that Zsasz guy might pull. 'Cause it'll all come down on both of us."

He scooted to the edge of his seat and put his elbows on his knees. "Oh I'm looking forward to it babe. I mean, if we're gonna go back to Gotham there's no point in hiding. No, not us, not in _my_ city. Anyone who wants to get off the bench and into the game is more than welcome to. In fact, I _want_ it. The Commissioner, Bruce, 'ol stabby Zsasz, all of 'em."

"I guess now would be a bad time to tell you I need some space and it's not you, it's me." She was only half kidding.

"Oh far too late. You know as well as I do that we're stuck together. Or, um, tied together. At this point......" his eyes were a mix of melancholy and a strange dreaminess. "At this point ya might as well reconcile yourself that we'll probably go down together. Hm? Blown to bits, shot a dozen times, put in Arkham. But don't worry. It won't be that bad. Who wants to live forever? Better to spread a little havoc and go out with a......a _boom_."

He nodded at her, grinning widely, and turned away.


	50. Chumming the waters

**A/N: **Much love to my reviewers and readers! Hope you're all doing well! If you ever want to talk I'm on AIM and Yahoo under oc1971jn.

**CHAPTER FIFTY**

_Chumming the waters_

Another motel. She was sick of them. Only an hour away from Gotham Jack had told Jake to find a place to stay for the night. _"Something cheap and dirty. You know, where no one notices anyone."_

After driving around the town of Blüdhaven Jake had spotted a desolate little rathole called the Blue Haven.

"Why not just drive on til we get to Gotham?" She'd asked when Jake left to rent the rooms. "We're close enough."

"Because." Jack had answered simply.

And now here they were. As soon as they'd slunk into the room and drawn the curtains he'd pounced on her, pinning her against the wall.

"I need to get this out of my system," he whispered. "Can't have any distractions when we get back. Got it?"

"You distract yourself, don't blame me." She leaned her head back and eyed him with a smirk.

His response was to shove her onto the ancient bed. Samantha glowered up at him, more turned on than angry but not about to let him see it. Not yet anyway.

"Well well. Looks like you're coming out of your little, ah, limbo state. So...now that you're back I've got a job for you. Take your clothes off. Don't fuck around either. Make it quick. And take your hair down." His tone was smooth and icy, utterly in command.

She took the band out of her hair but took her time with her clothes. No point in making it easy for him. And, she realized, she _needed_ this. Despite what had happened with her father and despite the fog of anguish she'd been in she needed it desperately.

"Come on," he hissed, hovering over the bed. His tongue slid over his lips in a quick sweep as he watched her. "Come on. Take 'em off or I'll rip 'em off. COME ON."

Samantha looked up at him, smiling. What was the fun of making it easy for him?

"No," she whispered, hand lingering over the buttons of her shirt. "I think you need to ask nicely. As a matter of fact, I think you need to _beg_." She grinned mockingly, knowing that would drive him over the edge.

A guttural snarl that sounded like the word _bitch _and he was on top of her. Buttons scattered all over the bed as he ripped her shirt open. A moment later and her jeans and underwear were pulled down to her ankles. Through it all she stared at him, smile firmly in place.

"Oh you wanna play huh?" He rasped, fumbling for his zipper.

She nodded slowly, letting her challenging smile fade. He was pressed against her, hard and insistent, and it was difficult for her to keep her composure.

It was his turn to grin. One look at his hooded eyes and she knew he'd gained the upper hand. That was fine. Like him she wanted this, had to have it. Heat raged through her body, that old familiar feeling of temporary insanity, of wanting him to do _everything_ to her. It was fire, dread, shame and an indescribable lust.....all messily wrapped in a layer of love and disgust.

"You're gonna......you're gonna do _whatever_ I want." His voice was halting, teetering on the edge of control.

Then he was inside her in one vicious movement, his thrusts making the bedsprings creak wildly. His slender hands crept to her throat, caressing and squeezing. She let him, ready to hit him if he got too carried away. With Jack there was always that chance, he could never be fully trusted, not even by her.

In a few more minutes she was begging, wanting him to do whatever he wished. Not so long ago she wouldn't have dreamed of pushing her luck that far. But now......

"Oh I'm gonna babe," he told her, his breath hot in her ear. "Don't worry about that. I'm gonna rip you up tonight."

* * *

She ran her fingers over the fresh toothmarks on her shoulders and the nape of her neck. Her wrists and arms were already starting to bruise. In the morning she would be terribly sore.

Jack slept peacefully next to her. Odd that she was the one who was wide awake, normally it was the other way around. She looked over at him, at the healing cuts on his chest and torso. Those were courtesy of her, the newest ones from a week ago. He bore other scars, the worst on his left shoulder. They were angry and pink, the healing skin still shiny. Jack had once told her the Batman had given them to him. Something about the Prewitt building, the night Harvey Dent lost his mind and the Bat made a martyr of himself, before Jack had come back to her. Might as well have been a hundred years ago.

_You need to stop fucking around and do something about Dominic._

Samantha frowned and lit a cigarette. Jack was hellbent on going back to Gotham, she knew she couldn't change his mind. As to why he'd abruptly changed his mind about leaving the city for a while....that made her wonder. It wasn't just because she'd become a liability since her father's death, it couldn't be just that.

No, she decided, he'd probably intended on returning to Gotham all along. He'd known Dominic had awakened and that he might have to be dealt with. The "vacation" thing had been a game, something to make her wonder. Jack was capricious enough for that to make sense.

But the hows and whys of his actions didn't really matter. What mattered was keeping Dominic alive. It was difficult to worry about him. Not after losing so many people she cared about. When it came down to it Dominic wasn't very important, almost a stranger to her. Nevertheless he was in danger because of her, had been shot because of _her_.

_He'll be the last. I'll do what I can for him....but after that I'm staying away from everyone. It'll be me and Jack or just me alone. No more. No one else will die because of me._

Jack extended a hand to her, ragged nails scraping into her flesh as he ran his fingers over her thigh. He was still asleep, as near as she could tell anyway. Samantha stubbed her cigarette out and stroked his arm. His skin was smooth and warm, here in the darkness she could almost believe he was merely a man, someone she loved and nothing more. Not dangerous, not a sociopath. Just an ordinary man lying next to her.

And then it came to her, unbidden and shameful yet infinitely true:

She was glad he wasn't an ordinary man. She was coming to terms with what Jack was, more than she ever had. Right and wrong were becoming increasingly blurred. The love she felt for him had corrupted her and now she couldn't go back. Her simple life was gone.

_Too late for you. Too late._

* * *

**A/N: **This is a little late but I figured I'd throw it out there. I sort of modeled Sam's dad (Ben) after Michael Lohan. Not his looks (Ben was supposed to be dazzlingly good-looking in his youth) but that sleazy, con-man, horrible father air Mr. Lohan has about him.

And NO, Sam is not modeled in any way shape or form after Lindsay, haha. She's a mix of Adriana from "The Sopranos", some people I've known in the past, and a tiny bit of me. Uh, a very tiny bit.


	51. Origin unknown

**A/N: **Sorry it took a while to update, I've been slacking a little. Thanks for your reviews and PMs, I really look forward to them. Ohhh, I can't wait for "Caprica" to come on, I hope it's as good as BSG.

**CHAPTER FIFTY ONE**

_Origin unknown_

"Don't bother trying to trace this call, it won't do you any good. Now....you have to listen to me Gordon. Please."

"Listen to _you_? You ran away with him Samantha and don't give me one of your goddamn lies either. The motel had a surveillance tape. I saw you leave with him willingly. You wasted my time, wasted my men's time. One of my detectives is dead. Remember Nash? And I'll go ahead and say it, he's probably dead because of you!"

He was shouting at her, his anger and frustration boiling over. After all he'd done for her and she'd betrayed him, made him look like a fool. And now she had the nerve to call him in the middle of the night - on his home number no less! - and tell him to listen to her.

A deep sigh on her end. Then: "Finished? I know you're pissed but you're gonna have to yell at me some other time. I'm calling because of Dominic. Now, do you want to scream or do you want to listen?"

A pang of anxiety overrode his fury and he swallowed. "Go ahead."

"Good. Now, a question and answer me honestly.....what does he remember?"

"Nothing really. Leaving the tunnel outside Arkham and then Dr. Peloni shooting him. Why?"

"Is that it? You need to tell me if it isn't." Samantha's voice was hard.

"No, _you_ need to tell _me_ what the hell............"

"Gordon, I don't have time to fuck around with you. Do you want Dominic to die? Because if you do then just keep running your mouth. I'm asking for a reason, I'm trying to help him. Now, let's try this again. Is there anything else he remembers?"

"No, nothing."

"And what do the doctors say about his memory?"

Gordon fought the urge to question her and answered the question. "They say that night will probably be a blank, that it's unlikely he'll ever remember anything else. The bullet is still in his brain, he'll never be like he was."

Her voice softened. "I'm sorry Jim."

"You should be," he growled. "You could have helped us, could have saved some lives. Instead you put your loyalties with him and, mark my words, you'll wind up dead because of it."

"I didn't put my loyalties with anyone," she responded. "I'm not on anyone's side."

"Don't give me your wishy-washy bullshit Samantha. You chose this, you wanted it. My family is in hiding because of the Joker, Barbara is going to divorce me because I'm not a husband anymore, or a father. All I've done is obsess over catching that bastard, there's nothing else in my life anymore. I eat it and breathe it and it's killing me. I'm losing it all Sam, everything I believed in, everything I held dear. What have you lost?"

A long pause before she spoke. "I've lost everything."

"Not yet you haven't," he snapped. "You had the power to end this and you tossed it...."

"I love him Jim. I always have."

For a moment he was dumbstruck, sure he'd misunderstood her. When he was finally able to speak his throat was tight with disgust. "Then you're a fool," he whispered. "A goddamn fool."

"Yes," she agreed. "And I apologize for everything. But know this, I did try to help Dom. I'm never coming back to your side but if we ever meet again remember that I tried to help him, okay?"

"If we ever meet again I'll have you arrested."

She laughed. "Yeah, I figured you'd say that. Fair enough."

Gordon heard a muffled sound, as if the phone were being moved. Then a new voice on the phone, tremulous and mocking. The sound of it made the hairs on his neck stand on end.

"Aw don't be so hard on her Jim. You ought to be thanking her you know. 'Cause that nephew of yours.....hm well he could be a problem. But thanks to her, um, persuasion I've decided to let him live. For a while anyway. Hey, how's your bat friend?"

Gordon's heart seized up and for a moment he was frightened. Then he steadied himself. "You'll know soon enough. He'll find you, you know. And when he does....."

The Joker clicked his tongue, as if disappointed at Gordon's hostility. "Promises promises. Look, sorry to hear about Barbara cutting you loose. Think she'll still let you see the kids?"

His hand clenched so tightly on the phone his knuckles went white. "You sonofabitch, don't you _ever_...."

"Now now Jim, don't be so defensive, hm? It isn't healthy. No, not at all. See, I was only trying to make conversation and you jump to conclusions. But....." the Joker's voice lowered conspiratorially. "If you ever want her taken care of look me up. Ex wives can be a real hassle."

A malignant giggle and then the line went dead.

* * *

"Well, looks like you burned a bridge tonight." Jack shut the phone off and dropped it into his pocket.

"That's one way to put it." Samantha sat down on an empty crate and looked around the warehouse. "Since we're back in Gotham shouldn't we find a new place? You've been here a while and Glen's head is stinking the place up something awful."

"One more night won't make a difference. Anyway I've already got another place lined up. A deserted factory by the docks, you'll love it."

She couldn't tell if he was serious or not. "As long as it's warm and I'm not sleeping on concrete I won't care."

He slouched towards her, head cocked curiously. "That cop......he means that much to you? 'Cause you can't go back now. Ever. You're in it with me."

She shrugged. "No point in killing him if he doesn't know anything. Besides, you like risks, right? Well there you go."

Jack dropped to his knees in front of her. His make-up was back, as was his suit. "Oh I think there's more to it than that. Like, oh I don't know, the fact you've got a soft spot for him."

"A soft spot? I hardly knew him. But I do feel bad that I didn't trust him when it was that fucking old man I should have been worried about."

He grinned. "Surprise."

Samantha leaned back on one arm and regarded him. "I'm a little tired of surprises. Speaking of which, you're going to keep your end of the deal, right?"

"Of course. As long as you keep yours."

She nodded, trying not to think about what she'd agreed to. "I will. It's something I want to do."

Jack pointed to the doorway eyes glinting with amusement. "Because he doesn't count, ya know?"

He was referring to Glen. Her eyes flickered to the severed head, then to Jack. "I guess not."

There was no way out of the deal and she knew it. But she wanted to do it, as wrong as it was. It was simple really. One life for another.

_I'm pretty much damned anyway. Might as well make it official and get a little payback while I'm at it._

* * *

**A/N: **So what kind of deal have they made this time? Always a catch with Jack. And no, one of the lives isn't hers. I like that she finally came clean with Gordon. Figured it was about time.


	52. Threshold

**CHAPTER FIFTY TWO**

_Threshold_

Samantha ran her fingers over the cool metal of the revolver. It wouldn't be long now. As she waited the conversation she'd had with Jack replayed in her head. They'd been on their way back to Gotham and she'd brought up Dominic, trying to change Jack's mind about killing him.

_"You don't want me to kill him hm? You're gonna have to do better than that to change my mind Sam. Make it interesting."_

_She'd thought for a moment. "I'll call Gordon when we get back to Gotham and ask him about Dominic. You don't know for sure he remembers anything. He got shot in the head after all. Let's just say he didn't see the name tag. Then what?"_

_"Hmm. He still needs to die and you know it. What's it to you anyway?" He was getting annoyed. "Why are you so stuck on him?"_

_"Because he didn't deserve what happened to him. I can think of others who do, but not him."_

_Jack's eyes took on a cunning gleam. "Ah. Now there's an idea. Someone who deserves it. Who might that be, hm?"_

_Samantha eyed him silently._

_"Maybe a certain, um, head shrinker? What if I could get the doc back Sam? Would you trade him for the cop?"_

_She paused, then took a deep breath. "Yeah."_

_He bared his yellowed teeth in a feral grin. "But here's one more catch. To make it more interesting. And then I promise you I won't touch your cop."_

_"What?" She was filled with a sinking feeling, almost afraid to ask._

_He leaned closer. "You have to kill the doctor."_

* * *

When the Joker summoned him he almost didn't come. He'd been hiding since Halloween night, safely ensconced in a cozy little apartment near downtown Montreal with Harleen. The Joker had provided him with a new identity and enough money to live comfortably for the rest of his life.

And then the call had come in.

"_Need you back in Gotham doc. Having some problems with Sam and I need your......expertise."_

He almost told him Sam wasn't his problem, that he'd done his part at Arkham and as far as he was concerned their business was over. In the end he'd agreed to come, said goodbye to Harleen and jumped on the next flight to Gotham City. Saying no to the Joker wasn't an option.

And so here he was, a seventy-two year old man with a PhD and a formerly illustrious career, walking into an abandoned warehouse to meet a psychopath.

Definitely not the wisest thing he'd ever done.

He hesitated, staring at the battered steel door before him. Oh how he didn't want to go in there. For perhaps the hundredth time he cursed the day he gave his soul to Harleen, and by extension, to the Joker.

It had started out with him mentoring a young intern, then being seduced by her youth and vivacity. He had fallen for Harleen, divulged his darkest secrets to her, not knowing she was one of the Joker's contacts in Arkham. That was the end for Dr. Peloni. When the Joker was sent to Arkham after the Narrows shootout he'd blackmailed him, gleefully telling him he'd make sure everyone knew about his substance abuse problem, his stealing drugs from the asylum and his sleeping with a colleague if he didn't help him.

He should have refused but he didn't have the strength to. Instead he'd helped some of the Joker's men get hired on as guards. Then he'd pulled a few strings to make sure the PCP laced cupcakes made it into Arkham. And of course he'd led Sam and Dominic straight to the Joker and his men under the guise of helping them escape Arkham's Halloween night chaos. Then he'd killed Dominic and betrayed Samantha.

Terrible way to end one's career.

Dr. Peloni rapped on the door, feeling foolish. A part of him had expected armed thugs to meet him outside. This was so ordinary, like visiting someone's home.

A few minutes later and the door squealed open. A stocky, squint-eyed young man stared at him belligerently.

"Oh look, here's House," he smirked. "Come on in. The boss is waiting."

He went in, wishing the entire time he had the courage to turn and run. The door slammed shut behind him and he flinched at the sound.

_Samantha is no concern of mine. Why have I come here? Why? Why? Why?_

But he knew why. The Joker owned him, as he owned everyone who dealt with him. There was no hiding from him, no freedom.

"Hi there Mitch. Where's uh...._Harleen_ at?" The object of his dread stood unmoving in front of him, a smile on his garishly painted face.

"Hello," he managed to say. A horrible stench filled his nostrils and he stifled the urge to clap a hand over his nose. "She stayed in Montreal....reluctantly I might add." It was no secret that Harleen worshipped the Joker and would do anything he asked. The Joker ignored her, mocked her, treated her like a dog and she lapped it up.

The Joker must have noticed his discomfort because he giggled. "Sorry about the smell. No maid service here, you know?"

"Where is Samantha?" Dr. Peloni asked, a bit more abruptly than he meant to.

The Joker shifted from one foot to the other, tongue probing the scars on his bottom lip. "Oh yeah, her. Hey Sam, wanna come here and say hi to the 'ole doc?" He shifted his eyes to the side, looking into the shadows.

A movement in the darkness and she came into view. Mitch realized she had been standing there the entire time watching them and the thought frightened him. He scolded himself for his fear, yes he had betrayed her but Samantha wasn't a violent person. She wouldn't do anything to him.

"Hey doc," she said and raised her hand to show him what she held. A gun, as ugly and deadly looking as a pit bull.

Feet moving backward of their own accord, he held his hands up. "Sam, don't. I'm here to help you."

"Yes," she responded. "You are."

He looked pleadingly at the Joker who merely grinned and shrugged as if to say _What can I do? _

Samantha moved closer. Her lips were tight, eyes solemn. "Did you know that Dominic is alive?"

He shook his head helplessly. His heart was thrumming wildly and he began to hope he'd have a heart attack, it would probably be preferable to what was about to happen to him.

"Well he is," she continued. "With a bullet lodged in his brain." She clicked the hammer on the revolver back and he noticed her hands were shaking.

"It wasn't my fault," he babbled. "I did it for _him_," he pointed at the Joker. "If you want to shoot someone shoot him. He blackmailed me, forced me to help him. I had to Sam, don't you understand that?"

"I understand," her voice was soft. "But you know I won't shoot him. That's why I have to do this."

"No! Sam, please. I never wanted to hurt you, don't you know I wanted to help you? Remember the methadone treatments? I didn't have to do that!"

"Yes. And I remember everything else you did too. I expected better from you doc. But it's too late now, isn't it? I made a deal and I have to stand by it. A life for a life. You or Dominic." She smiled wanly. "And you lose."

He started to protest, to say anything to make her change her mind, when the muzzle of the gun flashed yellow. A boom, oddly muffled, and then nothing.


	53. Killers

**CHAPTER FIFTY THREE**

_Killers_

Samantha thought of Glen, of turning away as Alex ripped his throat out.

_I'm not a killer_, she'd thought to herself then.

Now she was.

Dr. Peloni lay dead on the warehouse floor. A clean shot to the heart. She'd murdered an old man, a person she'd once been friends with.

And she felt......not a whole lot. No anguish, no pity for him, no fear. A bit of shame maybe, but only a tiny bit.

She glanced from the doctor's ashen face to the gun still clenched in her hand.

_Ruger SP101. Model KSP-321X-LG. 357 Magnum. Snub-nosed. Recoil reducing grip. Stainless finish. Beautiful. Just beautiful.  
_

Her mind droned off the specifications of the revolver as she stared at it. For a moment she considered dropping the weapon but instead gripped it more tightly.

"Good job." Jack said from behind her. She didn't respond.

"No angst," he continued. "Hm? You took the deal. Your cop will live."

He moved to her side and when she didn't look at him cupped her face and turned it towards him.

For a moment she kept her eyes on his painted mouth, on the scars, anything but his eyes.

"I'm a killer," she stated, focusing on the white greasepaint and the day's worth of beard stubble on Jack's face. Shaving, and snazzy clothing, was Jack's only vice when it came to personal maintenance. "But I'm not like you."

His lips curved into a bemused smile. "Not yet."

"You don't want that anyway. Not that it matters."

"You're right Sam. I don't want that. Sycophants.....I got enough of 'em. You do your own thing in your own way but know _this:_ You lost your, um, killin' cherry today and it _will_ change you."

"I'm counting on it. If it changes me then it had an impact. If it had an impact then it proves I'm not a.....a....monster."

"Look me in the eye."

She did, albeit reluctantly, and his smile widened in delight.

"You did it," he whispered, leaning close to her. "It was easy wasn't it? See, people build it up in their minds like the earth will shake and their, um, their soul will go _poof! _But what really happens is....nothing. You kill someone and you feel the same and nothing......._nothing_ changes."

"I'm numb," she muttered. "That's it."

"See?" He linked an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, obviously pleased with how things were going. "If the tables were turned he would've done worse to you."

Samantha took a deep breath. It was depraved that Jack's proximity would excite her even now, but she couldn't deny it. Desire uncoiled and weaved within her like a venomous snake waiting to strike. Dr. Peloni's body lay before them and it didn't change a thing, if anything it made it worse.

_I've thrown my lot in with him and corrupted myself in the process. And God help me I want him. I want to fight and fuck and get high and forget everything else._

"You got what you wanted Jack. What now?" She was mindful to keep her voice calm and level. It wouldn't do to let him see what she was feeling, he'd never let her live it down.

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, pretending to think. "Hm, I haven't made any plans. Oh I'm sure I'll figure something out."

"Hm. Well let me know when you do, alright?" She drew away from him, noting the look of annoyance that flashed across his features. "I'm gonna go in the other room and dose up."

"Of course you are," his voice was smooth and malevolent. "You go get high Sam.....if you think that makes things easier."

"It does," she responded brightly, already digging in her jacket pocket for what she needed. A straw. Check. A stiff piece of paper to cut the lines. Check. A pill. Check. She could crush the pill with a piece of wood or gravel if she had to. Her fingers closed over something else, soft powder wrapped in plastic, and she drew away from it. _No. Not yet. Maybe not ever._ "Oh and one other thing Jack."

"Um?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I'd like my car back."

Not waiting for an answer she ambled across the warehouse, leaving him to stare after her.

* * *

"No," Dominic insisted. "I don't want to be moved. If that freak sonofabitch wants to come for me then let 'em."

Gordon barely suppressed a groan. "It won't just be _you_ Dominic. If he gets in here it could very well be the entire hospital. Don't you remember what happened before?"

Dominic leaned back in his bed, his jaw set in defiance. Gordon had noticed his nephew's personality change since he'd been shot. He was more stubborn, more unreasonable. Volatile. The doctors had told him it was normal, that brain injuries could distort a person. Knowing that didn't make it any easier to cope with.

"Use me as bait," Dominic said. "Let him come. I don't care how you do it. You can figure something out. Use me as bait and blow his ugly head off if you have to."

"Out of the question." Gordon had told Dominic about his conversation with Samantha and also told him about Sam going AWOL from the motel. Now he regretted it. Dominic was fixated on the idea that Samantha had been taken against her will. Nothing Gordon said would change his mind.

"Why did she want to know what I remembered?" Dominic asked. "There must be something....some reason. I wish I could."

In a way Gordon wished the same. On the other hand, whatever Dominic didn't know had saved him.

"At least think about being transferred," Gordon said and smiled in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "Think about the other patients, think about yourself. Don't let pride cloud your judgment."

Dominic glowered at him, his blue eyes filled with anger and hurt. "Pride doesn't have a thing to do with this."

* * *

**A/N: **Curious about what the heck kind of gun Sam has and is obsessing over? Do a search on Ruger SP101 Model KSP-321X-LG. They really are beautiful guns, if you're into that sort of thing.

Glen had been the closest Sam had come to murder - and she had a dog kill him so it doesn't really count - hence Jack's remark about her losing "her killin' cherry".

Oh and Lady GaGa for Harley Quinn! That's right...I went there. The video for "Bad Romance" - which is awesome by the by - gave me the idea.

"Caprica" looks pretty damn awesome from the pilot episode. Here's to hoping Sy Fy Channel will keep it on the air for a while. God knows the network that brought to life movies like "Sharks in Venice" and "Boa vs Python" shouldn't be too choosy, ya know?


	54. Burn out the day, burn out the night

**A/N: **Thanks for reading, reviewing, etc. Love y'all!

**CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR**

_Burn out the day, burn out the night_

_'I can't see no reason to put up a fight. I'm livin' for givin' the devil his due. And I'm burnin' I'm burnin I'm burnin' for you.'_

"Um, hey Sam."

She frowned and stopped singing. "What?"

"Boss wants you." Jake said sheepishly. Her singing was terrible and she knew he was stifling laughter. No matter.

"In a minute. I like this song."

Jake shrugged and wandered back into the warehouse. Samantha watched him leave, bobbing her head to the music. As soon as he was gone she began to sing again.

_'I'm not the one to tell you what's wrong or what's right. I've seen suns that were freezing and lives that were through. And I'm burnin' I'm burnin' I'm burnin' for you.'_

When the song was over she took the keys from the ignition and sighed. Listening to the radio was all she could do in her Barracuda now. Driving it was a bad idea, it was too distinctive and Gordon and his cops knew it by sight. It was parked in a patch of woods behind the warehouse, out of sight to all but the most prying eyes. Soon they'd be moving to a new hideout by the docks and she'd have to leave it.

_Damnit. Can't have anything. Next time I'm asking for a Chevy Cobalt._

Mumbling to herself she got out of the car and, after patting the Barracuda's hood, went into the warehouse.

* * *

"Jake tells me you're scaring all the local wildlife off with your singing."

"Yep. I was also playing a mean air drum. What can I say, I'm bored," she paced around the room aimlessly. "Nothing to do."

Jack regarded her slyly. "What do you want to do? What's out there for you?"

She stopped her pacing. "I'm sure I could find something to do. If anything I'd get away from those damn stinking heads."

"Aw come on. I thought hanging the doc's head next to Glen's was a nice gesture. A trophy, you know? Something to remind you of your first time."

"Yeah, that's great," she kicked a cardboard box. "That's something I want my nose rubbed in every day. Thanks for that. Are we taking them with us?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Of course."

She shook her head. "What are you doing Jack?"

"Laying low. For the time being anyway."

"Yes I realize that. But what are you _doing_? As in, what are your intentions?"

He smacked his lips. "Waiting on you? What's it to you Sam? Hm?"

"I just want to know what's going on. Since I'm here and..........."

"Don't worry about it."

She looked up from the floor, letting her gaze fall over him. He returned her stare, a smirk on his face.

"I can't help but worry about it," she admitted. "I mean............."

"It didn't bother you before," His shoulders hunched and his head lowered, a sure sign of aggravation. "Stop worrying Sam, it's dull."

"Well God forbid I bore you," she retorted, knowing she was angering him. "How dare I worry about.........."

"Sh sh sh. Not another word about it. Listen Sam, I know you're all....funny because of the whole Glen incident. But things are different now. It won't happen again because you won't let it happen."

"What?"

"You heard me. Anyone messes with you again...you'll kill 'em," he smiled indulgently. "See, I really did help you with the doc. And next time you won't be uh caught off guard."

She bristled. "There won't be a next time. No more Glens."

He shuffled closer. "No, there won't be."

"So, you gonna tell me what's next?"

"I don't know," he stated flatly, turning away from her. "Get your things together. We're moving out tonight. And stop asking me questions."

Samantha watched him walk away and sighed in frustration. She'd done what he'd wanted, killed Dr. Peloni, stayed here with him in this miserable building and he couldn't even let her know what was going on. Typical Jack.

She heard him in the other room, his voice was rough and urgent. He had to be talking to Jake, there were no more goons.

_The incident in the sewers must have put a serious dent in his thug supply._

Curious, she drew closer, sidling close to the wall so as not to be spotted.

"What if he says no?" Jake asked.

"_No_?" A vicious snicker. "He won't say no. He _can't_. He owes me. Just go and tell him. And be fast about it, hm?"

"Okay boss."

Jake exited the room and she flattened herself against the wall. He strode past her, a worried expression on his normally vacuous face. Samantha watched as he slipped out of the warehouse.

_What are you up to Jack? And why the fuck are you not telling me? _

She cocked her head, listening for any noise. Nothing. After a moment she peered around the corner, knowing it was a stupid thing to do but unable to help herself.

Jack stood motionless in the dusty room with only a bare light bulb illuminating him. His head was bowed, eyes staring into space. Minutes passed and the only movement he ever betrayed was in his hands. Samantha watched, hardly able to breathe. After all the things she'd seen him do this was perhaps the most disturbing. The inertia, the constant twitchy motion of his hands, the faint curve of a crimson scar almost hidden behind lank strands of hair. He looked like a hellish statue, or a Francis Bacon painting come to life.

And she was suddenly very sure he was aware of her presence. Still, she couldn't look away. Seeing him like this was frightening, breathtaking. For a moment she swelled with perverse pride.

_This dangerous man, this creature, wants me around. He lets me live. I _know_ him. _

His head inclined the tiniest bit and he was looking at her, his eyes obsidian glints in the black kohl. A lazy grin spread across his face but he said nothing.

"You're incredible, did you know that? You scare the hell out of me....and I like it." The words came out before she could stop them.

He held her stare for a few seconds, showing no emotion whatsoever.

When he spoke, his voice was harsh.

"I know."

* * *

**A/N: **The chapter name and the song Samantha is mangling is "Burning for you" by Blue Oyster Cult, one of my favorite songs of all time. Also, Francis Bacon was a big inspiration for the Joker's make-up and overall look in "The Dark Knight", which is why I mentioned him. His paintings are really grimy and surreal. Not everyone's cup of tea but I dig him.


	55. Unwanted

**A/N: **Kind of a short chapter, sorry. Sometimes I've said all I want to say and reach a stopping point and it ends up being short as all get out. Also, I've got a new story called "Business as usual" if anyone is interested. It'll be a short one, probably just a handful of chapters. Thanks for reading, reviewing, etc!

**CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE**

_Unwanted_

Samantha sat on the rooftop of their new hideout, a pair of night vision goggles over her face, and surveyed her surroundings. From here she had a good view of the city, it gleamed like a green-tinted jewel, points of light surrounding her as she sat alone.

_A filthy wet jewel_, she thought, shaking the sleet from her hair. She'd been here for a while. Jack was gone, not two hours after moving into the factory he'd headed out, handing her the goggles before he left.

"_Something to entertain yourself with._" He'd told her and walked out the door without another word.

That had been two days ago. She hadn't seen him since.

_He's up to something. As always. And here I sit in an abandoned industrial park staring out at a city I can't even venture into. What's out there for me now? Gotta be something.  
_

When they'd arrived at the factory eight thugs had been waiting for them. They'd been "given" to him by some mysterious party, that much she'd figured out. The night she'd heard him speaking to Jake had to do with gaining more hired help. Jack had told her that himself but didn't elaborate.

She wondered idly where he was at in Gotham, if he and his new flunkies were in one of the buildings.

_Guess you'll know if one of them explodes._

The thought made her laugh, although it wasn't really funny. Well.....maybe it was a _little_ funny.

Samantha stood up and walked to the edge of the roof. Directly below her a stray cat roamed, moving in a zigzag motion across the asphalt of the factory's yard.

"Psst, hey kitty kitty."

The cat looked up at her, startled, then darted off into the night.

"Fine then."

She stepped closer to the edge and pulled the night vision goggles up. Momentarily disoriented, she swayed for a second, then regained her balance. A few months ago she would have been terrified of this. Now she felt nonchalant about it. No exhilaration but no fear either. Odd.

_Running out of things to fear, to worry about. What happens when there's nothing else? Would I be free? Like him?_

A squeak drew her attention and she drew the goggles back down. The cat had caught a large rat and was busy toying with it. After a few minutes it tired of the game and dispatched the rodent with a bite to the neck.

Samantha watched and smiled.

* * *

Gordon stared at Samantha's mugshot on the computer's screen and drummed his fingers restlessly. He'd been sitting for a while, looking at the picture, tuning out the bustle of the MCU as he tried to form a plan of action. She'd been arrested twelve years ago on a drug conviction, gotten probation and had the offense expunged from her record. Samantha had never told him, but he'd always known about it of course. He had her picture, her fingerprints. He could........

"Gonna put her on Gotham's most wanted list?"

He looked up to see a short dark-haired woman eyeing him curiously. It was Detective Renee Montoya, Nash's replacement.

"I don't know yet," he answered, his eyes going back to the screen. "She hasn't done anything to warrant it but......."

Detective Montoya grinned. "But you really want to catch her."

"I'd rather catch the Joker. But I'll settle for her."

"If you do, do you think you can get her to talk?"

"Honestly? I doubt it. She's....personally involved with him."

"Yuck," she crinkled her nose in distaste. "That's just creepy."

"You're telling me."

"How's your nephew doing?"

Gordon snorted. "Being a pain in the ass. He wants out of the hospital, wants me to use him as bait to draw the Joker in, wants to go catch him single handedly and save Sam. Never mind she doesn't need or want to be saved. In short he's making my life miserable."

"He's been through a lot. He'll come around."

"I hope so."

Gordon didn't mention that Dominic would probably never be a cop again. The trauma he'd suffered was too severe, his personality change too extreme. He hadn't told Dominic either and dreaded the day he would have to.

"Well, I'm going to get busy on this killer we've got operating in Midtown. Likes to slit throats, then put them in lifelike poses. No discernible reason for it, other than he's a nut." Montoya grimaced, her black eyes solemn. "Looks like he's killed five people in the past few months."

Gordon shook his head wearily. "It never ends, does it?"

"Nope, never." Montoya agreed.


	56. Watchers

**A/N: **Well, we've established that Sam is good and bored (as well as a little jacked up in the head since her dad died) hence the sitting in her car and hanging out on the roof of the hideout. For a person like her boredom is a horrible thing. Boredom is probably one of the main reasons she's a drug user. I also want to add that she's one of those "functioning addicts" that doesn't get wasted, just does enough to feel good. If she were one of those staggering, out of control users Jack/Joker probably would have put a stop to it or cut her off.

Oh and happy B-Day to Christian Bale. You can tell me we're fucking done professionally (preferably while naked) any day, you bad-tempered hot piece you.

**CHAPTER FIFTY SIX**

_Watchers_

From the shadows he watched Montoya exit the car and head for her apartment. Her neighborhood was a bad one, shabby and dark, straining towards middle class but not quite reaching it. Convenient.

He pulled his hood further down his head and crept up behind her. He'd have to be careful, this one was a detective, her senses honed for danger. A misstep and things could get tricky.

_She's just another one. Another zombie wandering in a pointless existence. I could cure that for her. Make her see._

No. No he couldn't. He'd promised the clown he'd catch the detective and bring her to him relatively unharmed. In return he'd get the other woman, the one who'd killed his brother.

And just in case he couldn't be trusted the Joker had a couple of his thugs watching him. If he hurt the detective they'd shoot him. But that was okay, he could control himself if it meant getting to _her_. Samantha or whatever the bitch's name was. He had a tally space just for her, right on his forearm.

Just thinking of slicing her throat, of the hot blood gushing from her jugular....it made his breath come fast. Only with her he'd draw it out, let her beg and plead and cry. Maybe he'd do a few other things too, things he normally didn't explore with his victims. And then afterward, when her blood was drained, he'd undress her and pose her. For her he'd pick a suitably humiliating position.

She'd learn then. She'd learn that he, Victor Zsasz, was God and she was nothing but walking meat, a cipher. A meaningless _bitch_.

A suspicious corner of his mind asked why the clown didn't just take Montoya himself and then kill Samantha but he ignored it. Since he'd found out what happened to his brother he'd burned, no _seethed, _to get his hands on Samantha. However, she'd been under the Joker's "protection" and he'd been forced to wait. As bad as he wanted her he wasn't a stupid man, the Joker wasn't someone he cared to anger.

And his patience had paid off. The clown had found him and offered him a bargain. It was easy to take, he knew Montoya was investigating the murders he'd committed. Before the clown had come around he'd been contemplating paying her a visit. Now he wouldn't have to worry about it. The Joker would undoubtedly take care of her.

Samantha was an idiot to hang around with the clown anyway. Did she think he'd make an exception for her, that he wouldn't eventually kill her when he grew tired of her? Someone that stupid got what they deserved.

He advanced on Detective Montoya, his movements fluid. She was fumbling with her keys, oblivious to his presence. Too easy. Cop or not, she was young and he was a practiced killer.

_Got a lot on your plate Detective? Are those murders you're investigating wearing on your mind? Well now you're about to meet the culprit. Me._

She never even had time to turn around when he grabbed her.

* * *

Samantha was dozing in an old supervisor's office when the noise woke her. Laughter. Footsteps. Jack's voice, jovial and malignant.

Stiffly, she got up and peered out across the factory floor. The light wasn't ideal - she wasn't even sure why the place had lights unless Jack had connections at Gotham Power and Light - but she could make out the figures of Jack and some of his goons. She stayed put, watching.

"Hey Sam!"

He was calling for her and that automatically roused her suspicions. Her hand drifted to the .357 in her pocket.

"Aw come on. Get out here!"

Reluctantly she went, striding onto the main floor and looking pointedly at each of the thugs. One of them, a bald mustachioed man, met her stare evenly.

"There she is!" Jack proclaimed grandly, as much to the bald man as to her. "See? I told you.....I'm a man of my word."

Samantha stopped a few feet from them. "What is this?"

"Give her to me. _Now_." The bald man took a quick step towards her. Jack's thugs stood back impassively. She could see Jake, his face blank.

She backpedaled, shooting a quick look at Jack who merely winked at her. "I said....what the fuck is this?"

Jack grinned widely, his expression inscrutable. "_This_," he pointed at the man. "Is Victor Zsasz. You remember me talking about him, hm? Glen's brother. Glen, the guy you, um, murdered?"

"I didn't," she began, hand creeping back into her pocket. "And anyway he..........."

Victor advanced on her, pulling his coat off as he moved. It was then she noticed his arms. They were scored with vertical cuts in groups of fours with a horizontal line through them.

_Like tally marks. Jack, you fucking loon, what have you done? Why would you bring him here?_

Her mind didn't want to accept he might have betrayed her, used her. But wasn't that typical of him?

_No, not like this. He wouldn't let me go out like this._

"Ah ta ta," Jack admonished. "Not so fast. You know Vic, you shouldn't be so eager. Some of us might be.....squeamish."

"I gave you the detective. Now you give me her." Zsasz never took his eyes off Samantha. "Is she armed? Because if she is you need to disarm her."

Jack looked over at her, his eyes cunning. Samantha saw something on his face, something dark and mischievous.

* * *

**A/N: **Victor Zsasz is a canon villain in the Batman world, and a really nasty one. He was in "Batman Begins" for a short time.


	57. And Hell followed

**A/N: **Another chapter already, geez. I'm snowed in and dying of boredom. Winter really needs to GTFO.

**CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN**

_And Hell followed_

_"Look what I found."_

The video was grainy and dimly lit. Even so, Dominic recognized the woman.

Renee Montoya. He'd worked with her at the GCPD. She'd been promoted to detective at the MCU recently, he recalled Gordon telling him that. Renee, an idealistic yet ballsy woman. Smart and tough. He'd always liked her.

Now she seemed none of these things. Her terrified face filled the camera, eyes pleading.

_"What would Gordon give to have her back I wonder?"_ The Joker's voice dropped an octave. _"Would he give me the Bat? Himself? I wonderrrr."_

A gloved hand appeared to pat Renee's cheek. She flinched from the touch.

_"What do you think Detective?"_

She shook her head, her short hair falling into her eyes.

_"What was that? I didn't quite uh didn't quite hear you."_

A sparking noise off-camera made Renee gasp.

_"I don't know!"_ She wailed. _"I don't know what you want me to say!"_

_"Just say what you're thinking. Hm? It'll be okay. Everything will be okay."_ The Joker's tone was cajoling now. Dominic was glad he couldn't see the freak's face. He was probably smiling, getting off on the woman's fear.

_"I....I think you should leave them alone. Gordon and Batman. Take me instead. Take me."_ Her gaze flickered to the side, looking at the clown.

_"Huh. Well that's very noble of you Renee. But do you think they'd do the same for you? Do you?"_

Dominic had been watching "Jeopardy" in his hospital room when a news update had interrupted the show. The newscaster, a slightly robotic blond lady, had informed Gotham's viewers a tape had been received from none other than the Joker himself.

"A threat came with this tape," she'd intoned ominously. "If we didn't show it the Joker said he would launch an attack tonight on an unnamed landmark. We felt it was our duty as journalists to do as he said. However," she'd paused for dramatic effect. "We strongly encourage sensitive viewers and viewers with small children present to not watch this."

And with that the tape had been shown.

_"I don't know and I don't care," _Renee hissed_. "All I know is they're better than you, you freak, you filthy fucking degenerate. And you will be caught. You will....."_

Her words were cut off when something was shoved into her mouth. Sticks of dynamite.

"Oh no. Oh fuck no." Dominic whispered to himself. He raised up in his bed, feeling helpless.

_"I think that's quite enough Renee. But before I leave you, let me tell you this. I'll always be around and this will always be my city. Always. Now....."_ the purple gloved hand appeared again, this time holding a lighter._ "Now it's time to say goodbye to Gotham. But don't feel bad, you'll always be remembered.....as the woman who went out with a big bang."_

Giggling at his own bad joke, the clown touched the lighter to the dynamite's fuses. The hand retreated and there was a shuffling sound. The Joker was leaving.

Renee Montoya gazed into the camera with wide eyes. A few seconds later the flash came and she was gone.

Dominic stared at the television screen for a long time. Finally, he got out of the bed.

* * *

"No, she's not armed," Jack said. "Why would I give her a weapon?"

Samantha shot him an incredulous look. He knew she had the .357.

_Now I see. Now I know._

Victor smiled and sprung at her. Samantha leaped backward, clumsily drawing the gun. Zsasz stopped short of her, breathing hard, eyes furious.

"Don't," she warned. "You just stay right there."

"Shoot him Sam," Jack encouraged. "Why'd you think I brought him here?"

"You lied to me, you set me up!" Victor raged. A vein throbbed in his forehead, keeping tempo with his fury. "You said you were a man of........"

"I lied." Jack admitted mildly.

Victor roared, reaching out to Sam impotently.

"You keep it up and I'll put you down." She was angry at Jack for putting her in this position but the sight of Victor practically clawing himself in frustration made her smile.

"Kill him," Jack told her. "If ya don't I'll do it.....and it won't be as fast as a gunshot, I can promise you that."

She considered it. After all, this man wanted to kill her. Jack had told her what he liked doing to his victims and the thought made her shudder. All those girls he'd killed, slitting their throats and leaving them posed like dolls. Something came over her, something cold and vengeful.

"What are you waiting for then?" Victor snapped. "You think you can shoot me? Go ahead."

"No, I don't think I will." She said.

Jack snarled in exasperation.

"I think I'd rather see him torture you to death," she pointed at Jack. "Oh, and another thing. Your brother? He was _pathetic_. I got the upper hand on him so easily and in the end he was _mine_." She leaned closer, keeping the revolver trained on Victor. "I had a dog tear his fucking throat out. But you know what? I wish I'd killed him myself."

"Oh, and I've got his head around here somewhere," Jack interjected. "I'll show it to ya Vic."

Victor looked from Jack to Sam. "You're dead. Both of you. When people find out about this you'll both be fucked!"

"Promises promises." Samantha replied.

"Well, guess I'll have to do this one myself." Jack said and gestured to his goons. "Boys, bring me my tools. Sam, have a seat. Tonight you're in for a real show."

Despite what she'd said she didn't really want to see this.

Well, maybe she did. Just a _little_ bit.

* * *

**A/N: **Poor Montoya. Gordon is gonna have a hard time filling that position, considering what happened to her and Nash.


	58. Anything goes

**CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT**

_Anything goes_

She wasn't sure how long she'd been watching, could have been a few hours, could have been thirty minutes. Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, she looked down at Zsasz.

He was curled up in a fetal position on the floor amidst a lake of his own blood. Jack crouched over him, humming absently. He'd used one of his knives to slice Zsasz's tally marks off and the floor was littered with scraps of flesh. Then he'd taken his lips, then his eyes. The screaming had finally stopped, replaced my gurgling moans. And then silence. She couldn't tell if he was still alive.

_I really should have just shot him._

"And there we go," Jack murmured, the knife flashing in his hand as he applied the final touch. "All done."

He straightened up, smiling down at his handiwork. "Whattaya think Sam? He look better to you?"

With a shiver she saw what he'd done. He'd given Zsasz a Glasgow smile. With his lipless mouth it was hideous, the stuff of nightmares.

"Christ," she muttered, averting her eyes.

"Sounds like a yes to me," Jack said merrily. His gloves were dripping blood, his face was smeared with it, even his clothes.

"You're not as repelled as you should be. Any other time you would have refused to watch. Wonder why that is? Hm?" he asked.

Samantha paused. She could lie, say things to make herself sound better. Like a victim. Instead she told the truth. "I was curious."

He stepped over Zsasz's body to stand before her. "Did you like it?" he asked, his tone low.

She looked up at him. "Not exactly." she answered quietly. "But it was.....interesting."

"I made it special for ya. And I have to say," he spared a quick glance at Zsasz. "I did a damn nice job. Especially the mouth."

"Yeah," she agreed, albeit hesitantly. "You did. But why? Why'd you bring him here? Did you want me to kill him?"

"I didn't care if you killed him or not. Get what I'm saying?"

She nodded. Zsasz was neutralized. Another worry gone. A form of freedom offered to her, but at an appalling price. It would have been better if Jack had gotten rid of him without her having to watch but that wasn't his style. Always a price to pay with him.

"I knew you'd understand. Finally getting it, hm?" He turned to his men, who were still lingering in the background. "Get out."

They obeyed, leaving the building without a word.

"Now....." he said once the door shut behind them. "Want to, um, talk?"

Samantha noticed his glazed eyes, his quick breathing and gave an inward head shake. Jack and pain, whether it was his pain or someone else's, equaled sexual excitement.

"Talk or screw?" She arched an eyebrow and he snickered.

"Tactful," he pulled her to her feet and she didn't fight it. "Come on, right here. Now."

She hesitated. "Jack, there's a dead body within five feet of us. Kind of a mood killer, you know?"

"Then don't look at him."

Jack's hands were on her, smearing Zsasz's blood over her clothes. Closer and closer, his mouth avid on her skin. He was hard and she could feel her resolve slipping.

"Don't look at him," he growled. "Look at _me_."

* * *

Since Montoya's video had been released Gordon had been running on autopilot. The detective was dead, there was no question of it. He, and the rest of Gotham, had seen her blown to pieces.

But why her? She wasn't even on the Joker task force. She was a good person. Why?

_Why not?_ his mind whispered. _Don't look for purpose with the Joker, you'll lose every time._

The 911 calls had started coming in shortly before the tape had been shown. An abandoned crackhouse had exploded, taking a couple of neighboring homes with it. No one had thought much about it, such things were common in Gotham, until they learned of Montoya's fate.

And now Gordon stood staring at the leveled house. Smoke still wafted from the ruins.

_Renee died here. She's in there somewhere._

His cell phone began to ring and he answered it mechanically. "Gordon here."

"Gordon it's Janice." Janice was his sister and Dominic's mother.

"I'm busy Jan, things are........"

"Dominic is gone Jim. He....he attacked his guard at the hospital, knocked him out and stole his uniform. He's gone and I don't know where." Her voice dissolved into sobs.

"Damnit," Gordon muttered. "Just hang tight Jan, I'll find him. I'll get him back."

_He watched what happened and now he's gone after the Joker and Sam. Oh my God I hope he doesn't find them._

One of the men searching the rubble yelled. They'd found Renee, or what was left of her.

* * *

"Jack stop. He's not dead. STOP."

Victor had begun to make a choking sound deep in his throat. He tried to speak but all that came out was gibberish. Sam glanced over to see him staring at her. Naked on the floor, trapped under Jack, she gaped at him in horror. He was trying to crawl away, eyes gleaming with agony.

Jack snickered and reached for his discarded coat. After a moment of digging he found what he was looking for, a small handgun. A gunshot to Zsasz's head and it was over.

"Now, back to what we were doing," Jack said, still on top of her.

She closed her eyes, shutting it all out. Jack's eyes, spinning with madness, Zsasz's crimson stained teeth and lipless grimace.

_Don't think about it. Zsasz doesn't matter. Jack matters. You matter. There's nothing else, you gave it all up. So think of how good this feels and nothing else.  
_

After a few minutes it worked. She forgot all about Zsasz.


	59. A good cause

**A/N: **Sorry for the delay, been busy doing....well....nothing. I did recently watch "No Country For Old Men" and "Eastern Promises". Both of them are really good movies. Javier Bardem is one of the best villains I've ever seen ("No Country For Old Men"). A cattle gun AND a shotgun with a silencer? That is some serious badass.

**CHAPTER FIFTY NINE**

_A good cause  
_

They were being watched.

Samantha had noticed it days ago, that peculiar feeling of eyes on her whenever she left the factory. When she mentioned it to Jack he'd nodded.

"I know."

"Who do you think it is? The Batman? Cops?"

"Nah, not the cops. They would have already come running in. Could be Bruce....." his eyes had taken on a faraway look. "But I wouldn't get that lucky. I'll be honest with ya Sam, I don't know."

"And if they try something while you're gone?" she'd asked.

"Then kill 'em." he'd replied simply, as if the answer were obvious. "You've got guns."

She'd thought to protest but held her tongue. Arguing would do no good. Since the incident with Zsasz two weeks ago Jack seemed to have come to a conclusion about her. He didn't mention it but the way he regarded her now spoke volumes.

_He always said you knew what he was from the very start. Now he knows what you are too. The kind of person who would sit and watch a man be tortured to death. The kind of person who would shoot an old man. All for a good cause of course!_

And now here she was, alone at the factory again. Jack and his thugs were gone, as usual.

She paced the outside of the building, weaving in and out of the shadows, knowing she was being observed.

_I should stay in, really I should. I'm courting disaster by doing this. What if it is the Bat? I'm not gonna shoot him, right? No._

Then why was she out here, alone and illuminated under the streetlights?

Boredom. A perverse wish for something to happen. Tempting fate. Baiting. She honestly didn't know. Sighing in disgust, she pushed the nightvision goggles up, shaking her head at the momentary disorientation.

The .357 in her coat pocket was comforting. Hopefully she wouldn't have to use it tonight.

* * *

He watched intently as she walked around the building. She was by herself, he'd finally satisfied himself of that. Weird that the Joker would allow her to roam around freely. Her eyes scanned the darkness warily and her hand stayed near her pocket, a sure sign she was armed.

Dominic frowned. Why would she be armed and wearing fucking nightvision goggles? Unless Gordon had been right all along. His uncle had told him she'd went with the clown willingly, that she was _with _him.

No, he couldn't believe that. He _knew_ her, had liked her so _much_, had guarded her at Arkham......she just wasn't the type to take up with someone like the Joker. It was a case of her being brainwashed...what did they call it? Stockholm Syndrome, that was it. Had to be it. Samantha had been afraid of the Joker, she wouldn't go along with him willingly. He'd probably beaten her, threatened her, done horrible things to her.

He had to believe that. He'd come too far, done too much since he'd left the hospital, to think otherwise. Finding the Joker had required him tracking down a few narcs he knew from the police force, who in turn had steered him to a couple of mob types. A few threats, a little strong-arming, and he'd gotten what he wanted. A surge of pride filled him. Batman couldn't even find the clown, yet here he was, a regular beat cop, sitting right in front of the fucker's hideout. Sure, he'd had to kill a couple of people to get his info but they were scum.....and this was for a good cause.

And when he got Sam out of here he'd call Gordon and send him this way. He'd be in trouble but it didn't really matter. Since he'd awakened from his coma all he could think about was how he'd failed. He'd failed to get Sam out of Arkham safely, failed to see Dr. Peloni was a backstabbing bastard. That knowledge had been a malignant seed in the back of his mind, never letting him rest, mocking him in his dreams. And then there was Montoya.

He'd known her, worked with her. Her dark eyes, huge with fear on the television screen, still haunted him. The Joker had blown her up, killed her as if she were nothing more than sick entertainment.

_Failed._

Looking at her made his chest ache. She was thinner but he still recognized her. Tall and angular, high cheekbones and narrow eyes, hair tied back into a sleek ponytail. Beautiful and cold, just standing there under the streetlight as if she _wanted_ to be seen. He wouldn't fail her again.

Yes, he would get Sam, take her out of this place and help her. And if the Joker showed up he'd kill him or die trying. Simple as that.

* * *

A breeze rustled the dead grass sprouting through the factory yard's cracked cement but Samantha ignored it. She knew the sound so it didn't scare her. Instead she watched the cat, the same one she'd seen killing the rat a while back. It crept through the shadows, black-furred and nearly invisible. Whenever she moved it froze in its tracks, eyeing her suspiciously.

She pushed the nightvision goggles back down over her face, grinning at how stupid she must look, and stared at the cat. It startled at something beyond her field of vision, then ran away.

Samantha closed her hand around the butt of her revolver and pressed her back against the building. Someone was coming.


	60. Obtuse

**A/N: **Thanks to my reviewers/readers! Love ya!

**CHAPTER SIXTY**

_Obtuse  
_

Samantha could see the figure now, approaching slowly yet confidently. A man, not much taller than her, and powerfully built. His facial features weren't clear, only a greenish blur in the nightvision.

"Stop." She pulled the gun from her pocket and cocked the hammer. "I can see you. Another step and I'll shoot."

He paused, head cocked in amusement. "Why don't you take those damn things off? You look a little dumb."

His voice made her hands tremble. Rough yet friendly. She knew that voice, had heard it at Arkham many times, had never trusted it yet liked it despite herself.

"Oh shit," she whispered. "You're kidding me, right? Dominic?"

He stepped closer, into the streetlight's radius, and she pulled the goggles off.

"You can stop pointing that hand cannon at me," he remarked casually. "I'm a little tired of getting shot, you know?"

For a moment all she could do was stare at him. He looked exhausted and thinner than what she remembered. His clothes were wrinkled and stained, as if he'd been wearing them for days.

"Aren't you supposed to be in the hospital?" she finally asked. "What are you doing here?"

_I'm asleep, have to be. Any minute now he'll turn into a bird or something and then I'll wake up. Because this is too bizarre._

"I was," he replied, a hurt look on his face. "And nice to see you too. Geez."

"Why are you here and not in the hospital?" she repeated and he frowned.

"I....left. Checked myself out, you could say. Look, could you please lower the goddamn gun Sam? I'm here to help you and you're acting like I'm the enemy."

She hadn't realized she'd still been pointing it at him and lowered it. "Sorry, I'm just a little.....shocked. Uh....yeah."

Dominic extended a hand to her and she looked at it, then at his face. His expression was harried.

_He sees it on me. He knows something is different. If he only knew. I'm sorry Dom. Sorry._

For the first time she noticed the scar on his temple. It was healing but still livid and ugly.

_The woods outside Arkham. Dr. Peloni releasing her hand and reaching into his waistband. The .38 at Dominic's head and a loud popping sound. Jack watching the whole thing in his stolen SWAT uniform. The name tag._

"Get out of here," she whispered harshly. "You have to get out of here _now_."

"I will," he answered and smiled. "But not without you. Why do you think I left the hospital Sam? I came to find you. And let me tell you, it wasn't easy. You wouldn't believe what I've been through to get here."

"I don't understand."

Dominic ran a hand through his close-cropped black hair. "I fucked up that night outside Arkham. I let you down. Sam....when I woke up the first thing I thought of was you. Gordon can tell you, I was fucking frantic until he told me you'd come back. And then you disappeared from the motel and I thought.....I thought 'Well, this time the Joker will kill her and there's nothing I can do about it because I'm too sick and weak.'" He turned his face away from hers, jaw clenched. "Then I saw what he did to Montoya and that was it. No more." His tone lowered to one of raw outrage.

"Montoya? Who's that?"

He raised his eyes to hers. "You didn't know? She was a detective. The Joker killed her. Blew her up with dynamite. Stuck it in her mouth and lit the fuse. Taped it and made them broadcast it on every news station in Gotham. I worked with her at Gotham PD. She was a great girl, a fine fuckin' cop and he......_erased_ her. Like she was nothing."

Samantha stared at Dominic in burgeoning horror. "I didn't know. Did he say why?"

He snorted and narrowed his pale blue eyes. "Why? No, not that I know of. Because he could is my guess. But I came for you Sam. I wasn't gonna let him hurt you too. I prayed I wasn't too late." He clamped a hand over her forearm and in her shock she barely noticed. "And I wasn't. Look, you've gotta come with me now. We'll go to Gordon and.........."

"_No_." The mention of Gordon roused her. "No, what's going to happen is you're going to leave here and forget you saw me. Because if you don't........" she wrenched her arm away from him. "You're a dead man. He'll kill you and there won't be a thing I can do to stop it. Understand me?"

Her thoughts began to race, everything coming together and clicking into place, piercing through the haze she'd been existing in since her father died.

_What you did to keep Dom alive will be for naught. Murdering Dr. Peloni and losing your soul in the process.....it'll mean NOTHING if Jack finds out Dominic has been here. And you'll have to watch, yes you will. Will you be able to do that? Can you imagine what Jack will do to him? _

"I came alone, so don't worry," Dominic was saying, oblivious to her rising panic. "I'll help you Sam."

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" she screamed and he blinked in almost comical surprise. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the cat watching them, its narrow face a study in disdain.

_Jack could show up at any time. Hell he could be listening now. Shit!_

"Um Sam I can't......" he began and she cut him off.

"No! You listen to me Dom. I don't want your help. I'm not a goddamn damsel in distress and I don't need your white knighting. I'm where I want to be." She backed away, glaring into his bewildered face and hating herself for what she was doing to him.

_But it's true. All true. So don't feel bad._

"I came with him willingly. He didn't force me. That's the way it's been with us.....for years Dominic. Do you hear what I'm saying? _Years_. I guess I love him, okay? And not a damn word, let me finish. So just.....just stay out of this, go back to Gordon and the hospital and don't feel bad about me. I'm fine. Oh and another thing, because I need to get this off my chest. I have a vested interest in keeping you alive because I shot a man for you. Remember Dr. Peloni? Huh? Ja.... uh the Joker wanted to kill you but I told him I'd kill the doctor myself if he'd spare you." She took a deep breath, the cold air raw in her throat. "And I did. I murdered him. _For you_. Because I like you and I'd always felt so guilty about what happened. But if the Joker knows you've been here," she lowered her voice into a whisper. "It won't matter. So please, please.....get out of here. For your sake _and_ mine."

She fell silent, slumping against the factory's brick walls.

_Now he'll understand. He has to. Has to._

Dominic digested her words for a while, his boyish face blank. And when he finally spoke she didn't know whether to cry or just shoot him and get it over with.

"I _can't_ leave Sam. I can't go back. Not after what I've done to find you. And you say you love him? Well I love _you_."

* * *

**A/N: **Obtuse yeah. Poor Dominic.


	61. I'm not like everybody else

**A/N: **At the end of the last chapter, when Dominic tells Sam he loves her, I could almost hear that sad trombone noise that they play in cartoons when something bad happens. You know, like "wah wah wahhhh".

Oh, and after a year and two months clean I'm back on the World of Warcraft again. My paladin. Northrend. Killing those goody-goody Alliance folks. And sexy undead mens. *twitches uncontrollably*

Chapter name is a Kinks song.

**CHAPTER SIXTY ONE**

_I'm not like everybody else_

"Dom.....I'm going to pretend you never said that."

"Why? It's true."

"No, it isn't!" she snapped. "You're confused, that's all. It's the bullet in your head, your pride...whatever. But it isn't what you think. I mean, come on now." Samantha pointed at him. "You're a cop. _A cop_. I don't fool with cops. And me? I'm a drug addict, I can't live in the straight world and I'm a _teensy_ bit screwed up right now. Get what I'm saying? Now, with all due respect....please leave here and don't say a word to anyone about finding this place."

Dominic shifted from foot to foot. "You say you killed the doctor to keep me alive. Do you know what I did to find you?"

She shook her head, dismayed that he wouldn't just leave. "I don't want to know."

"I murdered a couple of people," he continued, ignoring her. "To find out where the Joker was. The people, they were pieces of shit and I had to get nasty with them. See, this is why Batman can't find him, or the cops. They have rules and they won't kill. But it was the only way." He gazed off into the night. "So we both did the same thing and we did it for each other."

"You're not well Dominic. Don't you understand that?"

"I know I'm different now. But........." he trailed off, still staring into space.

"But it's too late." she finished.

"Yeah." He looked at her, brow furrowed. "You know you're in hell, right? And that you'll probably die?"

"Maybe not." she replied softly.

A van trundled down the street and her heart caught in her throat. Dominic didn't seem to notice or care.

When it was gone Samantha drew her attention back to him. "He knows someone has been watching this place. If he finds out you're here....."

"I'm dead. I know. You already told me."

"And I'm gonna keep saying it. Give it up Dom. Go back, do what you have to do. I'm not coming with you though. Okay?"

"I'm supposed to just leave and forget about you and what he's done?" he snorted in contempt.

Samantha threw her hands up in frustration. "Okay then. Stick around. Run out to meet him when he shows up. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to see you."

Dominic regarded her, his expression full of reproach. "I'll go and I won't say anything. But I'd like to know something first."

Samantha breathed a sigh of relief. "Anything."

"What you said about going with him willingly....is that true?"

"Yep. And save your comments, I've heard 'em all at this point. Let's just part on nice terms and be friends. Ya know, I always liked you, even if I didn't trust you too much."

"You actually like," he waved his hand at the crumbling building. "_this_? Hiding out in rat-traps with a maniac? What kind of a crazy bitch are you?"

She grinned, finally allowing herself to relax. "I'm not crazy. I'm a free bitch baby."

Dominic smiled back at her, but it didn't touch his eyes. "By the way, I don't want to be friends."

"I know Dom," she said sadly. "And if I weren't in this so deep I'd......oh nevermind. Just go and help yourself."

He took a few steps away from her and ran a hand over his face. "If I go I'll never see you again."

"Sure you will," she laughed and headed for the factory's door. "On the news. Goodbye Dominic."

As she entered the building she never looked back.

* * *

Dominic stood alone, staring at the locked door.

_Just like that she walks away. And after all you've done._

She was warped now, more so than he was. Maybe the Joker hadn't forced her to do anything but he'd changed her. Whether her change was by design or a by-product from being around a psychopath he didn't know and didn't particularly care. The results were the same.

He could almost hear his father's long dead voice. _You failed again son. Always were too trusting.  
_

Bullshit. He shook his aching head and glared at the factory. She'd rather live in hell than be helped, so that was her problem. But he didn't come here only to run away and pretend like nothing happened. What, did she think he was a pussy? Afraid of a scarred freak in a ridiculous suit......like everybody else in Gotham?

_Well you are. Remember when you were with the doctor and Sam in Arkham? You were scared to death the Joker was going to show up, like the fucking boogeyman. _

His father's voice made him growl in aggravation. Hunching his broad shoulders against the cold he walked away from the factory.

"I'm not like everybody else," he muttered to himself. "You'll see."


	62. Mutual understanding

**A/N: **Okay I rolled a Death Knight (female orc FTW) on World of Warcraft and holy shit are they badass. The starting quests are amazing. You go into towns and the civilians scream and run from you, the quest to get your mount is cake and you end up with nice gear by the time you hit level 60. I'm Blood spec, which so far at level 65 is the deathproof spec, or damn close to it. I tried Unholy spec because I thought having a corpse for a pet would be nifty, but I was a bit underwhelmed and went back to Blood. Haven't tried Frost yet, I've got a Frost mage so yeah.....

And I realize most of you don't play WoW, so I apologize for the nerd speak, haha. On another note I really want to see "Shutter Island" (Scorsese! Lunatic asylum on an island! Win!! Well, except for DiCaprio, whom I dislike. A lot.) and "The Crazies" because it looks fun and I've liked Radha Mitchell since "Silent Hill". Okay, enough of the blabbering. Love y'all!

**CHAPTER SIXTY TWO**

_Mutual understanding_

"Any visitors while I was gone?"

"No." She ignored his piercing stare, concentrating on a crack in the wall instead.

"Hm. You wouldn't lie to me would ya Sam?" He chuckled softly to himself. "No, of course you wouldn't."

They were alone in the old supervisor's office she'd claimed as her room. She stretched out on the cot that served as her bed and regarded him sourly. Jack was sitting in a creaky folding chair, his gloved hands tented and a playful expression on his smeared face.

"Why would I lie? You've been back an hour and this is the welcome I get," she yawned to make her point. "The third degree. Nice."

"Well here's the thing. My, um, sources tell me there's been an incident at Gotham General. About oh two weeks ago a patient left. Conked his guard over the head, took his uniform and just strolled out of there." He paused for a moment, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. "Now for some reason the, ahem, _authorities _didn't want anyone to know so it was all kept on the hush hush. And do you wanna know why?"

Samantha shrugged nonchalantly. "I guess so?"

Jack leaned forward a bit, his smile widening. "Because the escapee was none other than Dominic Aprile. Your, um, your _cop_. Gordon's nephew."

"This concerns me how?"

_Of course he'd know. Just deny deny deny and hope Dominic had the good sense to go as far away as possible and will keep his trap shut about finding you._

Jack's eyes widened in delight. "Oh it doesn't concern you at all Sam! I just wonder, why would he leave like that? Hm?"

She regarded him and grinned back. "Did he escape the same night you blew that detective up and made them show it on every news channel? If so, maybe he got scared. I'm sure he knew her, they were both working at Gotham PD. Maybe he thought you'd come after him next."

Jack's smile slipped, just a little. "And how'd you know about _that_?"

She sat up on the cot and leaned back on her hands. "Sources."

_What the hell are you doing Sam? If this is your idea of fun then you really are fucking cr........._

"Sources," he repeated thoughtfully. "We don't have a television here. No radio. No newspaper."

"Yeah, it's almost like you're worried about me finding things out."

His eyes went cold, even as he laughed at her words. "Worried? And why would I even care? You know more about me than anyone Sam and you're still here." His voice lowered an octave, making the hairs on the back of her neck rise. "You'll overlook anything I do, we've established that....so no.......no I'm not worried."

"Your ego.....my God," she teased. "I envy you sometimes."

"Ah don't kid yourself babe," he leaned back, suddenly relaxing. "You're a pretty big fan of yourself. Nothing wrong with that. It's only wrong if you can't admit it."

"I'm only a minor fan of myself," she deadpanned. "Truth be told I think I'm a little overrated and pretentious."

"Hilarious," he murmured, but his smile was gone. "Tell me Sam.....if your cop happened to show up.....what would you do?"

Dread gripped closed in around her and it was all she could do to keep her tone normal. "I'd tell him to go away and keep his mouth shut."

"Mm-hm." Those eyes were on her, unrelenting, seeing all. "And would ya tell me?"

"No I wouldn't," she answered lightly. "Because you'd kill him. I murdered a man to keep him alive. Do you think I'd let that be for nothing?"

Jack raised an eyebrow, a look of bemusement on his face. "What makes you think I'd hurt him?"

She snorted. "What makes me think you _wouldn't_? You have a tendency to destroy people Jack.....and Dominic would be no different."

He lolled back in the chair, tongue sliding over scarred lips as he considered her. "Did he come here Sam? I'm not gonna be, uh, _mad_ if he did. See, I just need to know......."

For a minute she almost told him the truth, then thought better of it.

"No," she said flatly. "Dominic didn't come here. How would he even find you, when no one else can?"

Jack stared at her for a long time and she couldn't tell what he was thinking. His face was inscrutable, the make-up hiding any trace of emotion.

"He's got a thing for ya, doesn't he?"

She shrugged. "How would I know? And if he does, oh well. I'm not with him, am I?"

"Don't fuck with me Samantha," he growled, eyes narrowed. "I thought we'd made some progress. A........_mutual understanding_, hm?"

_And you know what 'progress' means. It means you're coming along, that you're going to be some silent, unseen presence he can come to and then leave. Your fee? Drugs, sex and a life away from responsibility and culpability. And eventually you'll........_

Without warning he came forward, shoving his face into hers. She didn't flinch, instead stared him down.

"We've got that, right Sam?" His fists were clenched, his jaw working restlessly but his eyes were calm. "An understanding?"

"Yeah, we always have. Just more so here lately."

He nodded, moving closer to her. "Good, that's good. 'Cause I'd hate to think I couldn't trust _you_ of all people. You've got the heart of a.....what'd your old man call it? A consigliere? Yeah, that's it. One day babe, one day not too far away, it'll come down to _them_ and _me_. And you'll have to choose."

"I know," she answered, a bit breathlessly. It had been a while since he'd been this close and the blood roared in her head. "And when it does......."

"When it does," his mouth was at her ear, breath hot in her hair. "You'll do the right thing. Right for you, of course."

* * *

**A/N: **Dominic isn't out of the picture yet.

People have been asking when I'm gonna update "Business as usual". The story is still on - Warning: Be prepared to not like Jack too much in this one - and it'll probably be soon. Sorry it has taken so long, I hate waiting on updates too so I understand.


	63. Wrong way

**CHAPTER SIXTY THREE**

_Wrong way_

He was cold, tired and hungry. The money he'd withdrawn from his bank account was gone, forcing him to vacate his cheap motel room to sleep in a stolen car. He parked in back alleys and vacant lots in Gotham's seedier side, always watchful for police cruisers.

How had he gotten to this point? He'd been a cop, he was the Commissioner's nephew. Now he was a killer and a fugitive. And for what? For Samantha to stand there and tell him '_Give it up Dom. Go back, do what you have to do. I'm not coming with you though.' _

_Go back_. As if it were that easy. He'd murdered people with the gun he'd taken from his guard in the hospital. When the police found the bodies and did a ballistics check they'd know it was him.

A pang of agony shot through his head and he almost drove off the road. After a moment he regained control and drove on. When Sam had walked away from him he'd left the industrial park but kept coming back, driven by something beyond his own will. He'd cruise by or park a short distance from the factory and sit, then leave after a while. The clown had come back, so she was no longer alone. Dominic didn't let that dissuade him. Tonight he was going back.

_Why? She told you she didn't want your help. What are you gonna do?_

"I'm not finished," he said out loud. "I didn't do those things just to give up. No place for me to go anyway."

_You've lost it buddy. Your life is over. Bullet in your head, no more job. You made a fool of yourself too. Sam doesn't give a damn about you. What, you thought you'd come charging in there and she'd say "My hero!" and run away with you? Dumbass. She's not that kind of woman, you didn't figure that out at Arkham when you were scared shitless in those tunnels and she was so calm? She wants to be with that.....thing so let her. She doesn't love you. Leave it alone.  
_

"Stop it," he snarled. "Shut the fuck up NOW."

He gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles went white. That damn voice. His dad's voice. Even in death he was a bossy fucker. Dead of a heart attack for five years now and still riding him. He'd been a surgeon and had sneered at his son's choice to join Gotham PD. It was a peon's job, he'd said. Low pay, high risk of being shot to death in the street, and for what? To stop a mugger?

Dominic had stood firm though. He'd always wanted to be a cop, just like his uncle Jim, and his father wouldn't have a say in the matter.

_And look where you are now. By the way....what _are_ you gonna do?  
_

The pain in his head intensified but he ignored it and kept driving. He had things to do. She might not come with him and she might not feel anything for him but she _wouldn't_ disregard him.

He remembered something he'd said to Sam when they were at the asylum.

_"Wow Sam, you really have a way with men. Crazy ones that is."_

_"Does that rule you out?"_ she'd asked jokingly and he couldn't help but feel a pang of hope when she'd said it. He'd always liked her, even though it was wrong, had always wondered if they'd known each other under different circumstances would she have given him the time of day. She might have been a pill-popper who'd gotten involved with a maniac but she was so....appealing to him. If he hadn't failed outside of Arkham he could have helped her, she would be the way she used to be. Maybe he could have stood a chance.

And the most frightening part was the more out of control he got and the more his anger grew the more he felt for her.

"I guess it _doesn'_t rule me out." he said to himself, because he was sure he was now insane.

Slowly, inexorably, he headed for the factory.

* * *

"We're gonna leave here," he told her. "You'll like the new place better."

They were crowded together on the cot, naked underneath a couple of blankets. Samantha was warm under the covers but the air in the unheated room was frigid.

"Oh?" she asked, struggling to keep her eyes open.

"Yeah," he replied. "Heat, television. The works."

"Wow," she asked, a little warily. "How'd I get so lucky?"

He ran his hand up her side, long nails scraping against her skin. "Lucky? That's got nothing to do with it. You've been staying in hellholes. Because of me. I know that. So....it's time you got something more comfortable."

She could feel him staring at her in the darkness. Their earlier conversation about Dominic seemed all but forgotten, as far as Jack was concerned.

"Thanks." She wasn't sure what else to say.

He made no reply but pulled her closer to him. The silence between them stretched into minutes. Samantha shut her eyes.

"I'm sorry. Did you know that? For everything that's happened. But I'm gonna make it better for you Sam."

She opened her eyes and looked over at him. Most of his greasepaint had rubbed off and all she could see was ghostly patches of white and the glint of his eyes.

"Don't worry about it, I'm fine."

"No you're not," his voice was a harsh whisper. "But you will be, won't you?"

She slid a leg over his. "Yeah. I'll be okay."

His hand came to rest on her upper arm. After a few minutes the sound of his breathing slowed. He had fallen asleep.

She laid next to him, wide awake, and stared into the darkness.


	64. Bereft

**CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR**

_Bereft_

_The walls were rust-red, the color of old blood, the ceiling white, the floor black. The dimensions were off, the room could have been the size of a jail cell or a football field. She couldn't tell._

_And in the center of the room four men sat at an immense stainless steel table. Their terrible faces were impassive, pitiless._

"_Do you know what you've done?" her father asked. "Do you know where you're going?"_

_Samantha tried to respond but couldn't. Her mouth wouldn't move, her body wouldn't move. She was frozen in place. All she could do was stare at the men._

_Her father, his face a ghastly greenish white color, a thin line of blood running down his inner arm and the mark of a belt imprinted into his skin._

_Dr. Peloni, immaculate except for a gaping hole in his chest._

_And the other two..........._

_The breath hitched in her chest and Samantha wanted to turn away, to at least shut her eyes. _

"_You can't girl," Dr. Peloni said casually, reading her mind. "You're being judged. You _have_ to look." He looked inquiringly at the other three. "Those are the rules. Right?" _

_Her father nodded at Dr. Peloni, then brought his dead gaze back to her._

"_Look at the other two Sammy. You did that to them, the least you can do is acknowledge them."_

_She didn't want to. God help her she didn't want to, but something made her look, as if she were being controlled._

_Eric, virtually unrecognizable. His face was caved in, broken cheekbones protruding from his flesh, head grotesquely swollen, both eyes shut. _

"_Hi Sam. Been a long time hasn't it?" He grinned through a mouthful of broken and missing teeth. "How do I look? Some girlfriend you were. You traitorous bitch."_

_He started to stand and her father stopped him with an outstretched hand. Eric settled back down with a frustrated sigh._

"_If it wasn't for him...." he mumbled, motioning to her dad. "I just don't understand." He turned to the man on his other side. "Do you understand it?"_

_The other man didn't respond and Samantha felt her eyes being forced to him. _

_Most of his head was gone, from the bridge of his nose up. His blood steamed in the cold air._

_Brian._

_It came to her then, images put into her mind. The Narrows shootout. Being trapped behind an old truck as the police and Jack's men fought. She'd asked Brian something and turned around when he didn't answer. Dead. So still. He had been the first of the dead, _her_ dead, and the most innocent. He'd once been her best friend.  
_

"_He doesn't talk," Eric said matter of factly. "No brain. But he can show you. Did he show you Sam? Did you know whose bullet killed him?" He laughed, sending a fine mist of blood onto the table. "It wasn't the cops. The bullet came from your friend's side. I know you always thought differently but that's the truth."_

"_Don't rub it in," her father warned. "Try to be fair."_

"_Fair?" Dr. Peloni hissed. "Fuck being fair. I was called to help her and she shot me. And I was unarmed!" A strangely wistful expression came over his pale face. "I'll bet Harleen was so upset when I died. I wonder how she is."_

"_Your whore is fine," her father snapped at the doctor. "Matter of fact she's out slumming with some two bit crooks. She's a crime groupie. The bigger the fish the lower her panties get."_

_Dr. Peloni shot him a look of pure hate but said nothing._

_Samantha paid no attention to any of them except for Brian. Horror oozed through her, stealing her breath, turning her blood to ice._

"_Yeah, you did this." Eric told her, taking it upon himself to speak for Brian. "If you hadn't done what you did we'd all be okay. No one would have went crazy or died."_

"_I have to agree with him Sammy," her dad said sadly. "And now we'll always be here, right up until the end. Remember the end? The alley and the snow? When Jack's gone we'll be all you have. And then you'll be here with us."_

"_Why isn't her dog here?" Dr. Peloni grumbled. "We should have brought the dog."_

_The walls glistened and an odor of rot and formaldehyde filled the air. The men grew silent, their faces going blank._

_Brian stood, his huge frame scooting the table back. For a moment he stood there swaying, then he began to make his way to her. His shirt and pants were awash in crimson and bits of flesh._

_She wanted to back away, to tell him to leave her alone but she was trapped. No thoughts, no movement, nothing. _

_He moved closer, his lips pulling back into a smile. His teeth were caked with dried blood._

_And then he showed her. Red. Black. White. Fire and blood. Someone crouched in the snow, sobbing as if their heart were breaking. Headlights. Smoke. Blurred faces, puzzled and angry. The muzzle flash of a gun.  
_

_Brian's hand extended, as if to touch her, and she knew if he did she'd lose her mind. He would take everything and leave her with nothing. It would all be gone._

_All of it._

She awoke, eyes rolling wildly in the darkness, heart thrumming in terror.

"Jesus," she gasped. "Oh no no no."

There was someone next to her, touching her, ragged nails and calloused hands.

"Hey......Sam. You're dreaming."

The sound of his voice sent a torrent of relief through her.

_It's just you and him. No one else._

"I know." she said, when she was finally able to find her voice. She could think and move. The dead ones were gone. They weren't real.

"You okay?" he asked, already slipping back into sleep.

"Yes. It was just a nightmare. A really screwed up one."

"About?"

"A bunch of dead people," she laughed weakly. "And they blamed me for their condition."

"Mm-hm. Guilt is a hell of a thing." He ran his mouth over her shoulder, then scraped her skin with his teeth. "So I hear anyway."

"Well it's true." Her arms and legs were shaking, even Jack's attentions couldn't make it stop.

"Everything is gonna be fine Sam," he told her. "You'll see."

"I hope you're right."

"Sometimes I think I've let you down. Did you know that? All this time and what have you got......nothing," he snaked an arm around her and settled in close. His lean body felt good against hers. It was strange being this close to him and so comfortable. "After Zsasz I got to thinking about it and I decided, um, that things are gonna change. Because you and me?" His arm tightened around her. "_I like it_. But I'm hurting you, don't think I don't see it. I figure it's just a matter of time til you tell me to fuck off. And I don't want that. _Ever_."

"Good." she murmured, shocked at his words but too tired to comment further. She'd mull it all over in the morning. Right now all she wanted was a deep, dreamless sleep.


	65. In my head

**A/N: **Sorry it's taken me so long to update. Had a sinus infection and crazy RL stuff going on. Thanks for your PMs, reviews, etc! Chapter name is a Queens of the Stone Age song.

**CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE**

_In my head  
_

Dominic had stopped telling himself this was stupid and pointless. Because it _wasn't_. No, this was a mission. It was him telling his story and making Sam listen. And then he'd.....well he'd probably die. Didn't matter. He'd shot two men for no better than reason than to ensure they wouldn't notify the Joker he'd been trying to find him. The men had begged and assured him they wouldn't say a word but he couldn't take a chance. And then there was the torture he'd had to resort to to get them to talk in the first place. Yes, Blackgate Prison awaited him if he lived. Him, a cop, in Blackgate?

_I'd be lucky to last six months and those would be the worst six months anyone could imagine._

He'd been watching the building all day and when the sun set he crept closer. As soon as darkness fell the Joker's men began moving in and out of the hideout, dragging a few boxes and loading them into a decrepit old Chevy Blazer. A silver minivan idled nearby, incongruous in the grimy setting of the factory's parking lot.

They were preparing to leave.

Dominic crouched down behind a dumpster and considered his options. One, he could trail them. Two, he could just go ahead and do this tonight. In a moment of clarity he almost called it off. He could just go back to his car and sleep. Starving, cold, snow up to his knees, hiding behind a reeking dumpster, his head pounding like a drum....this was Hell.

_You chose this. You wanted to be the big man. Gonna puss out now? _His father's patronizing voice._  
_

_No I'm not. So shut the hell up. _

A contemptuous snicker, not unlike the Joker's. _You're going to fuck it all up son. Worse than you already have. And all for some piece of trash woman you'd ordinarily be arresting instead of trying to save.............._

"I'm not trying to save her. She's past that," he hissed out loud. "So shut. the. fuck. up."

Silence. Finally.

Dominic focused his full attention on the men. Three of them, run of the mill goons as near as he could tell. They moved in and out of the factory busily, the embers from their cigarettes glowing in the darkness. They spoke softly amongst themselves, their voices too low for Dominic to understand. His foot was going to sleep and he moved it gingerly, wincing at the pins and needles sensation.

_I've got two bullets left against three thugs and the clown himself......and Sam. There's no way. Can't do it......._

The three goons slammed the back doors of the Blazer shut and shuffled into the factory, leaving the door open behind them. Dominic waited, half expecting them to come out again. A few minutes passed. Nothing.

He was about to talk himself out of it when a movement in the doorway caught his attention. Two people, coming out of the factory's door and down the concrete steps. They lingered for a moment, backs to him. Dominic crept closer, using some rusted oil drums scattered around as cover. One of the figures had long dark blond hair. Samantha. His eyes settled on the taller figure.

_I bet I know who you are. Turn around you ugly sonofabitch. Come on come on turn around so I can see your face._

They were talking and when he moved closer he could catch snippets of their conversation.

_"so you see a bat isn't a rodent" _Samantha was saying.

_"oh really? well that's just fascinating Sam. I'll be sure to call him a flying Chiroptera from now on. That sounds so much better. That way no one will ever know what the fuck I'm talking about."_

Dominic stiffened at the sound of the Joker's voice, the adrenaline in his veins making his blood roar.

_"they never know anyway"_ Samantha laughed. Yes, not only was he crazy, she was too, laughing and teasing as if everything that had happened meant nothing. As if it were a _joke_. As if he were a joke. Dominic hated them. _Loathed_ them. Her most of all.

They turned, facing him but not seeing him. To Dominic's surprise the Joker didn't have his face-paint on or his trademark suit. If it weren't for the scars he would have looked normal. Almost.

The Joker's black eyes scanned the shadows, right over Dominic, and he found himself short of breath. The Joker had always instilled a kind of sick dread in him and that hadn't changed. Time stopped and he was sure those terrible eyes could see him. For a moment he was a kid again, too scared to look out his bedroom window at night for fear of what might be looking in at him.

_And I'm hiding like a rabbit, hiding like a fucking rabbit about to piss myself. Oh God I can't help it. _

_"not gonna tell me where we're going?"_

Samantha's voice distracted the Joker and Dominic barely held back a sigh of relief.

_"nope"_ the clown responded and began to walk towards the minivan. He moved in long lazy strides, weaving close to Dominic's hiding spot. It began to snow, the huge flakes glowing coldly under the street lights.

Samantha watched after him, a look of bemusement on her face._ "A surprise huh?"_

The Joker was next to the van._ "Coming?"_

_"I always do don't I?" _She came to the van, smiling._  
_

That was it. He heard the sly innuendo in her voice and something about it spurred him into action. He rose from his hiding spot and moved to the van.

At first neither of them seemed to notice him. And then the Joker glanced over at him, as if he'd been waiting for him to show up.

"Oh hey Sam here's your _cop_," his voice was lighthearted and suddenly Dominic _knew_.

_He knew I was here all along. Somehow he........._

He heard Samantha's footsteps abruptly stop.

"And why are you here cop? Hm?" The clown eyed him disdainfully and licked his lips, causing Dominic to shudder. "You here to get Sam? 'Cause I don't think she's gonna go with you."

"Dom...don't..." Samantha said from somewhere behind him.

Dominic locked eyes with the Joker and pulled the gun from his coat pocket. "No, I'm not here to get her. I'm here to kill you."

"Of course you are." the clown taunted, completely unconcerned.

Dominic heard Samantha running, she was going to stop him. He had to do it _now_.

"No Dom. _Don't_!"

Dominic ignored Samantha. There was nothing she could say to him anymore. She didn't matter.

He pulled the trigger and shot the Joker.

* * *

**A/N: **This story will probably be over in a few chapters, so yeah, it's actually going somewhere. And yeah me and my cliffhangers, sorry. Stopping points, y'know? You won't have to wait long on the next chapter, if that helps.


	66. The Dominic situation

**A/N: **This chapter is kind of long. Not "War and Peace" long, just long for me.

**CHAPTER SIXTY SIX**

_The Dominic situation_

From the corner of his eye Dominic saw Samantha rushing towards him, a gun in her hand. A blinding pain in his skull and he fired his second bullet in the Joker's direction before he fell. It had originally been meant for Sam but it was too late for that now. Now all he wanted was to make sure the clown was dead.

"How could you do this Dom?" Samantha snarled from somewhere above him, her voice breaking.

_I'm alive. She didn't shoot me with that hand cannon of hers. Pistol whipped me instead. Why?_

For a heartbeat all was quiet. Then hurried footsteps as the three thugs rushed down the steps and stopped short at the sight before them.

"Oh fuck," one of them moaned. "Oh....._shit_. He get shot? Boss? You okay? _Boss_?"

"Do I look okay? Hm?" The Joker growled sarcastically. "It's just a little, um, bullet. Or two. Nope, nothing at all to worry about."

Dominic lifted his head. Through blurred eyes he saw the Joker only a few feet away. He was leaning against the van, the snow underneath his body turning red. He'd managed to hit him at least once but any triumph he might have felt was offset by the fact the clown was still breathing and still looking at him, a mocking grin on his face even as he bled out.

"Hey.....uh....hey _cop_. You feel better now?" the Joker asked Dominic. His clothing was soaked with blood but he didn't seem to notice or care. The freak's threshold for pain was unreal. "Was it all...worth it? Hm?"

"As long as you die it was." Dominic replied.

"Let's kill that motherfucker now," one of the thugs snarled, making a threatening move towards Dominic. Samantha was standing over Dominic, strangely quiet. Dominic had figured she'd be screaming or crying but she seemed unmoved by the scene before her.

"Keep back," she warned. "See to your boss. I'll handle the cop."

"_Your_ cop," the Joker snickered. The sound trailed off into a choking cough and his eyes narrowed. "He's _yours_ and now you get to choose what happens to him. Again. See, I know you lied to me about him coming around. You lied and now you're, uh, in charge of him. Funny thing is....you don't even like cops, do ya Sam? Hm? But he's still alive! I know....hey....let's count to five. Okay, let's go....onetwothreefourfive.....hm and he's _still _alive!" His tone was equal parts gleeful insanity and raw anger.

"He'll be dead soon enough." Samantha responded, sounding stunned.

The Joker glared at Dominic, mouth open as if he were going to speak again, but instead toppled face first into the snow.

"Oh no," one of the thugs said, sounding panicky now. "He's dead! He's dead! He's......."

"He's not dead. Not yet anyway. He's still breathing, see? Get him back in the building and do what you can." Samantha said. "You guys pick him up and carry him. We can't let him lie out here."

Dominic looked up at her. She was staring at the Joker's prone body, her expression blank. She must have felt his gaze because she looked down at him.

"You don't look too upset Sam," Dominic told her, unable to keep the smug edge out of his voice. "Must not have loved him too much. I guess I did you a favor."

He paused, wondering what she'd say. Instead of speaking she drew her foot back and gave him a vicious kick in the head.

Blackness enfolded him and he lost consciousness.

* * *

She watched the men circle Jack's body. They were hesitant to touch him. She couldn't really blame them.

They moved him into the factory as she stood watch over Dominic. As soon as they were gone she took a few deep breaths, trying to keep the panic at bay. The shock was wearing off now and she felt sick.

He'd stood there and _let_ Dom shoot him. Granted, there hadn't been much time for him to react but still......

_I could have killed him before he shot Jack, but I didn't. Does he really mean that much to me? Is keeping him, a Gotham PD cop no less, alive worth it? If Jack dies will it be worth it? Oh Dom, you've been way too much trouble. And look what you've done now. Now I'll have to kill you.  
_

She shook her head and spared a glance at Dominic's still form, then at the bloody snow where Jack had been moments before. Her eyes burned and she blinked fiercely.

_I have to run on autopilot for right now. Can't freak out, can't get rattled. There's work to be done.  
_

Jack's thugs came out of the factory. Samantha looked at Jake, the only one she knew. He'd been the driver on the ill-fated trip to visit her father in Florida, the one who'd gotten her to eat when she'd had her.....breakdown.

"We put him in the downstairs office. He's out cold right now and he's gonna bleed to death if we don't do something," Jake told her before she could say a word. "Both shots hit 'im. Leg and the side. The good news is they're just grazes. Bad news is bandages ain't gonna stop the bleeding."

"Well we can't take him to the hospital, that's for sure," she murmured. "You guys got a doctor you can get over here that won't say anything?" She knew the mob and most underworld types had access to at least one corrupt doctor.

"Well...." Jake shifted uncomfortably. "The boss usually doesn't fool with doctors. If we get hurt we deal with it ourselves or die."

"Great," she muttered. "Not sure about you or the others but I don't know the first thing about fixing people. If a Band-aid and Neosporin can't solve it I'm lost."

"There might be someone, he's a quack and half crazy but he used to be a doctor....or a veterinarian....not much difference though. I'll make a few calls."

Samantha nodded. "Whatever you can do. Look, I'm gonna take the cop out somewhere and get rid of him. Don't want to do it here. I know a good place."

Jake shrugged nonchalantly but one of the other men stepped forward. "Why can't you kill him here? And anyway, who says you get to call the shots?"

She eyed him, he was huge, with a shaved head and a tattoo of an eagle on the side of his neck. His beady eyes regarded her with open hostility.

_This one will give me a problem, the other two will listen to me but this guy....._

"Didn't you hear what your boss said? The cop is mine to do with what I want. And I'm gonna fuck him up," she kicked at Dom's body for added emphasis. "But I don't want to do it here. There's gonna be screaming, a _lot_ of it, and I don't want to draw attention."

Jake laughed but the combative goon continued to glare at her. "I don't trust you. And I don't like taking orders from women."

Samantha's hand tightened around her gun. "I really don't care. It's not like I'm making you go buy me tampons, so get over it. Don't think of me as a woman, think of me as someone who will blow your damn brains out if you give me a problem. Look, all I want is to get this goddamn cop in that van and get him somewhere so I can take care of him. Or we can do it your way and you can explain to the boss when he wakes up why you went against his wishes. Completely up to you of course....uh...what's your name again?" She smiled at him.

"Marty." he answered petulantly.

"Tell you what Marty. You can go with me, since you don't trust me. I'll need someone to help me put the cop in the van and get him back out. That okay with you?"

"Sure, sure. Whatever." He was angry but momentarily put in his place.

Her smile widened. "Good. Now, let's get going. I'm driving."

* * *

Jake was sitting outside the factory when the van pulled up. He glanced at his watch. They'd been gone almost two hours. Samantha must have really meant what she said about making the cop scream.

She got out and made her way to him. Alone.

"Hey, where's Marty at?"

"Dead. Hey, can I have a smoke?" Her clothes were streaked with blood, there were even smudges of it on her face. When Jake handed her a cigarette he could see it caked under her nails.

"What the hell happened?" Not that he was upset, Marty was a cocksucker, but they needed all the help they could get with the boss down.

"The cop had a knife on him. When Marty was pulling him out of the van the cop cut his throat." She shrugged and lit the cigarette. "By the time I got to him it was too late."

"And the cop?"

"Dead too." she said and went inside the building. Jake followed her.

"The doctor showed up," he told her. "He's still with....him."

Samantha nodded wordlessly. She was headed for the room they'd put the Joker in. When they got near the room they ran into the doctor.

"Oh....hi." the doctor stammered when he saw Samantha. He seemed taken aback, almost frightened. Jake wasn't sure if he was shocked at the sight of a woman in this place or her bloody state.

"Hi," she answered mildly. "So...what's the prognosis?"

Jake eyed her. She spoke lightly, as if none of this bothered her, but her eyes were red, as if she'd been crying. It was obvious she was struggling to keep herself together.

The doctor gave her a once over. "If he doesn't pull his stitches out, and good luck keeping him from doing it, and the wounds don't get infected he should be okay. I've given him a shot of antibiotics and morphine. I mean...." the doctor ran a hand through his messy hair and adjusted his glasses. "He's lost a lot of blood, so I'm not saying he'll definitely live...but I'm not saying he'll definitely die either. So uh....."

"Gotcha." Sam interrupted and Jake smirked. Stupid doctor. He was a fentanyl addict with a perverted thing for his woman patients, the best kind of doc for these situations. A little bit of blackmail, a whole lot of threatening, and they'd do anything you asked.

"Hey," Samantha asked. "You wouldn't happen to have anymore morphine would you?"

"Um Sam," Jake admonished. "That's not such a good idea."

"Shh. It's a great idea."

The doctor smiled nervously. "Yes, I happen to have quite a bit. It's injectable though, so....."

"That's fine," she took her jacket off, discarding it on the floor, and rolled her shirt sleeve up to expose her arm. "I've had a rough day doc. I'm in _pain_. So dose me up."

Jake sighed. He knew how her dad had died, he'd been there, and he couldn't believe she was asking for _this_. He wondered if he should say something but realized what a hypocrite he'd sound like. It was okay for her to kill someone but not okay to do this? _Right_. She'd tell him to go to hell.

In the end he merely watched in silence as the doctor shot her up with morphine.

* * *

Later that night he passed by the room where the boss was at. The door was open so he peeked inside. The Joker was asleep on the tiny cot. Jake found it hard to look at him like this. He looked so weak. So human.

Sitting on the floor across from the bed was Sam. A cigarette smoldered between her still-bloody fingers and she stared at the boss. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her face slack. Jake briefly wondered what she was thinking and decided he was better off not knowing.

He was turning to leave when her voice stopped him.

"Jake?"

"Yeah?" He turned to regard her.

"We have to get out of here. As soon as possible. Did he tell you where we were going before he got....shot?"

"Yeah, he told me. We'll leave tomorrow okay? Get some sleep and don't worry 'bout it. It'll all be okay."

She uttered a strange laugh and for the first time looked at him. Jake was chilled by the sheer emptiness of her gaze. "Yeah, it will won't it? It always is. It has to be. Because if it isn't we'll all go down. Every one of us."

He hurried away, not answering her, only wanting to get away.

"It has to be." she repeated to herself.

* * *

**A/N: **So did Jack/Joker let Dom shoot him or was he really caught off guard? Would he go that far just to make some kind of point (a point that would only make sense to him and maybe Sam too). And how far gone is Sam? Her dream at the first of the story of Jack dying and her becoming a junkie and dying in an alley is gonna become a self-fulfilling prophecy if she keeps it up. Or maybe she's just blowing off some steam. The story is coming to a close so we'll find out soon enough.


	67. No one knows

**A/N: **Another fast update another QotSA chapter title. Also, another sorta long chapter. Oh yeah, I can't wait for Arkham Asylum 2 to come out in August. The trailer is made of win. Looks like Penguin, Catwoman, Black Mask and Two-Face will be in it. I also heard Robin might be in it and that's.....unfortunate. I'd love if they'd pretend he didn't exist.

Oh and thanks to my readers and reviewers! Love y'all.

**CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN**

_No one knows_

"Do you remember anything at all that could help us find them?"

"No. They kept me blindfolded the whole time. It was a warehouse I think. Well.....maybe....I don't really know for sure."

Gordon sighed and glanced over at Detective Stephens, who merely looked away. He brought his gaze back to the young man in the hospital bed.

"Okay Dominic, that's fine. In time maybe."

"Maybe." Dominic repeated, never looking away from the television on the wall.

Gordon had almost written him off as dead until two nights ago when he'd gotten the phone call. The joy he'd felt at discovering Dominic alive had quickly been replaced by horror at what had happened to him in the weeks he'd been missing. He'd been severely dehydrated, malnourished and badly bruised, especially about the head. In a few weeks he'd went from being a muscular healthy cop to a gaunt-eyed wraith. Even worse, his sanity was tenuous at best. His ordeal and the bullet in his brain had changed his personality, perhaps for good. Gordon was afraid Dominic would be sent to a mental institution once he was out of the hospital.

"Let's go over this one more time Dominic," Gordon said gently. "And then we'll leave you alone. I know you're tired. Just start from the beginning."

Dominic was silent for a few seconds, as if he hadn't heard his uncle. Then he blinked, the motion strangely mechanical, and began to speak.

"I left the hospital after I saw what the Joker did to Montoya. The sonofabitch. Wanted to find him. Knocked my guard out and took his gun and uniform. Then I went to some people, snitches I knew from the police force. Told 'em if they didn't give me info on the Joker I'd set them up on some drug charges. So they told me where he was supposed to be and I went there. Only when I got there it was a setup and he was there. S.....Samantha too." He exhaled and clenched his jaw, barely containing his emotions.

"It's okay son." Gordon reassured him. "Everything is okay now."

Dominic's eyes snapped to his and he seemed about to laugh. Instead he continued to talk.

"They kidnapped me, took my gun away, blindfolded me and took me to another place. They wanted to know how I'd found them and I told them because they said they'd hurt my mom if I didn't. I guess they were going to kill the guys that told."

Gordon nodded. The men who'd given Dominic information about the Joker had indeed been found dead, shot with the 9mm Glock Dominic had stolen from his guard.

"They kept me in a room and sometimes they brought me food. Sometimes they smacked me around a little. Never said what they were gonna do with me. And then she.....uh Samantha, took me out. The Joker was gone at that time. Anyway, she got one of his guys, the one you found with me, and they took me to the rock quarry where you found me. She'd told the guy that came with us that the Joker said to kill me. But instead she.....she shot him and then she let me go. Said that she didn't want me to die, that I was gonna be a message to you and all of Gotham. She said for me to disappear, to change my identity and if it ever got out I was alive the Joker would track me and my family down and kill us all."

"The dead man we found you with was named Martin Gibbs. Prior convictions for robbery and aggravated assault. Did you know anything about him?"

Dominic shook his head. "No."

Gordon got up, followed by Detective Stephens. "That's enough for right now. Your mother is waiting to see you. I'll be back later. And don't worry, okay? Nothing's going to happen to you."

Dominic stared at him as if he were insane. "Why would I worry? It can't get any worse, can it?"

Gordon wanted to tell him it could, and oh it could get so much worse, but chose to hold his tongue.

"When I was guarding her in Arkham I thought she was a nice girl. Nice.....y'know?" Dominic said plaintively.

Gordon shook his head. "_Nice_?" he scoffed. "She's not nice. She never was."

* * *

When Dominic was alone he thought back to that night. He'd lied, of course but he didn't have a choice. For all intents and purposes he died that night and soon he'd be reborn as someone else. His old life would be buried and hopefully forgotten. She'd taken a lot from him but she'd given him that at least.

_He'd come to in a van. Someone was sitting near him, a large man with a shaved head. Streetlights and snow whizzing by the windows in a blur. He struggled to rise but realized there was no use. His hands were tied behind his back._

_"The pig is awake Sam." the man announced._

_Samantha was driving. Dominic saw her eyes flash to the rear-view mirror, then back to the road._

_"Gonna die tonight pig," the thug chuckled. "Gonna cut your balls off, then take your eyes, then....."_

_"No need to be so descriptive Marty," Samantha interjected. "Let him use his imagination."_

_Marty mumbled something and fell silent._

_Then they were pulling off the main road onto gravel. Every bump and jar made his already aching head shriek in protest. Christ it hurt so bad. He could imagine the .38 slug festering in his brain._

_The van came to a stop and Samantha got out. Marty slid the back door open and yanked Dominic out, letting him fall into the snow._

_"Funtime cop. You ready for it?" The thug kicked him in the ribs a few times._

_"Hey now, save some for me." Samantha laughed. Dominic couldn't see her._

_Marty ignored her and kicked Dominic a few more times. He was wearing steel-toed boots and the agony from each blow began to cancel out the pain in his head._

_"Look at me cop. You fucking look at me you piece of shit....you...."_

_"Hey hey hey...I told you to save some for me. He's mine after all." Samantha was standing next to Marty now, looking amused. _

_"Well you better get started then."_

_"I will." she answered cheerfully and pulled her gun out. In one quick motion she put the muzzle to Marty's ear and pulled the trigger. She never looked away from Dominic._

_Marty made a strangled noise from deep in his throat and toppled to the ground, half of his head blown out by the bullet's exit. His bulk landed on Dominic's legs but in his shock he didn't feel it. He could hear a strange sound, like a water leak, and realized it was blood gushing from Marty's nose and mouth.  
_

_"Aren't you glad you didn't get shot with one of _these_?" Samantha asked him, holding the revolver out for him to inspect. When he didn't answer she shrugged and knelt down next to Marty's body. She rifled through the dead man's pockets, taking a cell phone and a knife._

_"I'm going to move him off you." she informed him matter of factly and he could hear her struggling to pull Marty away. Finally she just rolled him and the weight on his legs was lessened._

_'This is a dream,' he thought to himself as she straightened up. 'Not real.'_

_"Now....I'm going to pull you up. We're going to have a talk, no point in you lying around like a dead fish while that's going on, right?"_

_Dominic didn't respond and she prodded him with her foot. "Right?"_

_He nodded._

_"Good. Now I'm gonna pull you to your knees, use your legs to help me. Don't try to stand, stay on your knees. And don't get any ideas. Okay?"_

_"Okay."_

_When she got him to his knees she stood in front of him silently. Dominic knelt before her, hands still tied behind his back, head down. His nose was bleeding and he watched the crimson drops melt the snow._

_'I was wrong,' he thought absently. 'I was wrong about everything.'_

_"Here's the deal," Samantha said from above him. "I'm going to give you a break. _Another_ break. Why I don't know, because I really should have this gun stuck down your throat about right now. Guilt I guess? Yeah, probably. I like you too. In another life things might have been...different with us."_

_She got on her knees so they were eye level and continued. "I'm going to tell you what to tell Gordon and his cops. If you don't do as I say things will be bad for you. Very bad. After tonight you're going to disappear, you hear me? I never want to see you again._ Ever_. I don't care what you do, just go away and never come back. Change your identity. You are dead. I want to read about you being dead in the fucking newspapers. And if you don't do exactly as I say here's what'll happen. Look at me."_

_He looked at her, reluctantly. Her eyes were utterly cold, her face without emotion. Cold and beautiful and terrible. The sight of her made him die inside.  
_

_"Here's what'll happen. Your mother will be tracked down. Your little sister will be tracked down. How old is she? Twenty? And with mental problems. Poor thing. And you will watch while they die screaming and cursing you for being such a fuck-up, for bringing this on them. And it'll be the Joker doing the dirty work, so you can be sure it won't be quick or pleasant for them. But...." she smiled at him pleasantly. "I'd be there too, telling them _exactly_ why this is happening to them."_

_And he knew she meant every word of it.  
_

_Something within him broke and he began to cry. He wasn't even sure why, but he couldn't stop himself. Desolation filled him, all consuming and relentless._

_"I'm not doing this because I want to hurt you," she told him, ignoring his tears. "I'm doing it to help you. One day you'll see that. I'm going to give you a clean slate. Oh, if he dies I might come find you anyway.....but we'll worry about that later. I won't drag your family into it, if that's any consolation. And for the record, I do love him. Even when I was in Arkham being guarded by you I loved him, secretly wished he'd come for me and dreaded it at the same time. I won't bother to explain it to you, you wouldn't understand."_

_"Jesus Christ.....you're....you're not. You're a.......just as bad as....." he sputtered and gave up, unable to articulate what he felt. He was filled with horror at what she'd told him, amazed that she would let him go after what he'd done. He didn't know what to think. But he understood. He understood only too well.  
_

_"You're right. About whatever you're trying to say. Don't cry. Everything is okay now." She tilted her head, smiling. "Now, you ready to be coached on what to say? And I suggest you listen carefully. Very carefully."_

_And when she was finished she cut the ropes around his wrists, got in the van and left, leaving him kneeling in the snow._

_ She never looked back._

* * *

**A/N: **Another thing I was going to point out in my A/N last chapter was that Samantha = Ben (her dad). She's just like him, has always fought it, but after his death she just kinda gave up. In a way she's evolving...or devolving, depending on how you want to look at it._  
_


	68. Blüdhaven

**CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT**

_Blüdhaven _

She was almost asleep when she heard Jake's voice.

"The news is on Sam, you might want to see this."

Bleary-eyed, she shook her head and sat up on the couch. Focusing her gaze on the tv she merely stared, then uttered a short laugh.

Mike Engel was saying something about two men being murdered and then the camera switched to a tiny anchorwoman stood on the steps of Gotham Police Department. A gust of wind mussed her immaculate hair and she frowned in annoyance.

"_A Gotham City Police Officer was found shot to death in the early morning hours on the city's east side. He is identified as Dominic Aprile, nephew of Police Commissioner James Gordon. Another man's body, also shot execution style, was found with Officer Aprile. He has been identified as Martin Gibbs. The connection between the two men is so far unknown. GCN has repeatedly tried to reach Commissioner Gordon for comment but his representatives have told us he will be giving a statement soon. Rumors have been flying that these killings were somehow related to the Joker but we'll have to wait for the Commissioner's statement to know for sure. For GCN Tonight this is Catherine Bates...."_

"I thought you said the cop cut Marty's throat," Jake said with a frown. "But the news lady just said he got shot."

"Oh...right. I wasn't entirely truthful about that."

"What happened then?"

She regarded Jake. He was sitting across the room from her, nervously perched on a recliner.

"Okay, I shot him. He wasn't listening to me, wanted to kill the cop himself. I couldn't have him undermining me, especially not with your boss in the shape he's in."

Jake nodded thoughtfully. "Got it."

"Didn't really want to say anything. Wasn't sure how you and the other guy would feel about it."

"I don't care. Never liked Marty anyway. Steve didn't either."

"Where is Steve anyway?"

Jake rolled his eyes. "Probably in the basement. He's bothered about being around you. Afraid the boss will flake out."

"What about you?" she asked pointedly. "Aren't you worried?"

"Nah. I don't like women," Jake chuckled. "Boss knows that. Why do you think he picked me to drive to Florida that time?"

She stared at him in astonishment. "You're fucking kidding me."

"Nope."

They fell silent and went back to watching the news. Engel was finishing up a segment called "What does Batman symbolize to Gotham?"

_"And so I ask you Gotham....what does Batman symbolize to _you_?"_

"Jail!" Samantha exclaimed.

"Guano," Jake laughed.

"He symbolizes the pain and torment this city has had to endure due to scum running the streets," Samantha said in a mock serious tone. "He beats the bad guys to a pulp in the name of good and rescues beaoootifullll damsels in distress from evil freaks. And he does it all while wearing pointy ears and a mask."

"Don't forget the codpiece."

"Oh....I haven't. How could I? Think he stores his grappling gun down there?"

They snickered over that for a few minutes, then finished watching the news.

Sitting in the dark with one of the Joker's thugs, faced bathed in the television's unnatural glow, she marveled that she could laugh and joke right now. After everything that had happened it seemed so callous. So cold-hearted.

But she couldn't help feeling a bit triumphant. Gordon and Dominic had done as she'd requested. Dominic was 'dead', and she knew he would never come back. Not after she threatened his family. Not after showing him what she was capable of. Hell, _she_ hadn't even known she was capable of it. Thinking back on it she knew it was because of Jack.

* * *

_She'd left Dom and driven away. A few miles down the road she'd pulled over and called Gordon on Marty's cell phone. After all this time she still remembered the Commissioner's number but this would be the last time she'd call him. The line was about to be crossed....and that was how she wanted it._

_When Gordon had answered she'd told him to come get his nephew and told him where to find him. Then she'd given him the same talk she'd given Dom._

_"Tell everyone he's dead Gordon. You have to." And then she'd went on to describe what exactly would happen if he didn't do as she wanted. And this time she brought Gordon's wife and kids into the threat, as well as Dom's mother and sister._

_It was a bad thing, but she had to do it. Dom couldn't come back. Jack couldn't know she'd allowed him to live. She'd had to play hardball to make sure everyone listened to her. It wasn't like she'd ever hurt kids. Adults were a different story, but kids? No.....she could never do that. However Gordon didn't know that and therein lay her power._

_And then she'd told Gordon she'd murdered the narcs. Dominic had done it but she'd taken the blame._

_Why? She couldn't really say. Maybe to cut ties with the straight world. Maybe to help Dominic. Maybe all of the above and a few other reasons, too dark and perverse to dwell on._

_And when she was finished speaking to Gordon she threw the phone out the window and sat staring into the snowstorm. For a few minutes she thought she'd be okay, no tears, no panic, but it had come crashing over her like a great black wave. She'd sat there in the dark, a wrenching pain in her chest, her breath coming in frantic gasps, tears streaming down her face. She was a murderer, a fugitive, a drug addict....much like her father. But that wasn't the cause of her tears. It was because of Jack._

_"He won't die," she'd whispered repeatedly. "He can't. Not now."_

_After a few moments she'd composed herself and driven back to the factory._

* * *

"Do you think he'll die?" Jake asked her quietly.

She lifted her head, relieved that he'd interrupted her thoughts. No use dwelling on the past. Couldn't change it.

"I don't know," she answered honestly.

They'd moved into the new place two days ago and Jack had yet to show any improvement. He slept most of the time, but not peacefully. He snarled and thrashed, putting a dangerous strain on his stitches. When he was awake he was non communicative, confused and vicious, as if he had no idea where he was and wanted to kill everyone who got near him. His breathing had taken on a horrible rattling sound and he was dangerously skinny. The doctor had come back and given him more shots, but Samantha couldn't tell if they were working. Most of her time was spent in his room watching him helplessly. At night she slept in a chair in the room. What was happening to him wasn't _right_. Someone like him should either live or die, but not linger on like this.

"If he doesn't make it...." Jake began and she shook her head.

"You're gonna ruin my buzz Jake, so drop it til the morning. Okay? We can talk, but not about him dying."

"Fine," he looked vaguely offended. "So how do you like the new place?"

The new place was a home in Blüdhaven. The city of Blüdhaven was adjacent to Gotham and despite the former's much smaller size the place was even more crime-ridden and dangerous than its big sister. The police were easily bought and would turn a blind eye to anything provided the price was right.

Still she had to admit she liked it here. This was no warehouse or factory but a real house with electricity, power and even cable television. It was small in a remote section of town, reminding her of her old house. With a feeling of sadness she realized this had been a surprise, this had been what he meant when he'd told her he would make things better for her.

"It's nice," she answered carefully. "It's just too bad about the....circumstances."

"He got this place for you. It's yours but please don't ever tell him I told you. The only reason I'm letting you know is to make you feel better." Jake looked away, obviously embarrassed. "Whatever kind of thing you two got going on....I don't want to know about it but I know this has to be hard on you."

"I'm handling it."

Jake stood up and stretched. "You're handling it better than me and Steve, that's for sure. You either put up a good front or you got ice in your veins."

"Neither," she smiled.

"Yeah okay. I'm going to bed. Get some rest okay? And lay off the fucking drugs. All I need is for the boss to get better only to find out you're dead. Do you realize how much trouble I'd be in?"

He grinned at her and she realized he wasn't just worried about himself, he was concerned about her too and was trying to hide it.

_For God's sake, _she scolded herself. _Don't get attached to Jack's men, you know what ends up happening to them. Even if this guy doesn't like women....Jack will find another reason to kill him eventually._

"Goodnight," she said. "I'll try to make sure I keep you out of trouble."_  
_


	69. Know thyself

**CHAPTER SIXTY NINE**

_Know thyself_

She was awakened by screams.

For a moment she was back in the farmhouse, standing by a shut door. The whir of an electric carving knife and pleading. And of course Jack's voice, guttural and demanding. She could _hear_ him, as if he were in the next room.

"Where is she? Huh? I asked....._where is she_? Get her now now now!"

_You're not dreaming, not back in the farmhouse. He's up.....and not in the best of moods._

"Sam, get your ass in here! NOW!" Jake yelled. The chaos was coming from Jack's room.

Eyes fluttering, she rose from the couch, trying to remember what had happened to cause all this commotion. The doctor had come by this morning to check on Jack. Before going into the bedroom he'd given her more morphine, as he always did when he made his house call. Afterward she'd nodded off on the couch, enveloped in a warm chemical fog. The morphine was the only time she could relax and get some rest.

"For fuck's sake Samantha. Get in here!" It was Steve this time, his voice panicky.

She ran the short distance to the bedroom and stopped short in the doorway. Jake and Steve were just inside the room, their hands up in a placating manner.

Jack stood by the bed, brandishing a .45 in one hand and the doctor's scalpel in the other. He was dressed only in the torn and bloodstained pants from the night he'd been shot. The doctor lay motionless at his feet, a hypodermic syringe protruding from his neck.

"See? Here she is. Right here." Jake spoke to his boss as if he were trying to calm a savage animal.

Jack lowered his head and swayed unsteadily. His glazed eyes rested on her and stayed there. "I see her," he snarled, lowering the gun.

The relief she felt at him being on his feet overrode any fear she should have felt and she found herself walking into the room. Jake put his hand on her arm to stop her and she shrugged him away.

"Hey," she whispered, stopping only when the doctor's body kept her from coming any closer. "You know how worried I've been about you?"

Jack considered her for a moment, eyes hooded. She couldn't read him, couldn't tell if he was angry. The scalpel twisted and twirled in his hand, an indicator of the turmoil he felt.

"You thought I'd bail, didn't you," she stated rather than asked. "Thought I'd do what was best for me and me only."

"I wasn't wrong," he responded cryptically.

"She hardly ever left you," Jake interjected and Samantha was amazed at his bravery....or foolishness. "Slept in that chair every night." He pointed at the threadbare recliner in the corner of the bedroom.

Jack's eyes flashed over to his men. "Get out of here and take the quack with you. Oh, and when....um or _if_.....he wakes up tell him I don't, uh, require his services anymore."

"Should we give him some money then? To keep him quiet?" Steve asked stupidly.

"Tell 'em to bill me," Jack sneered.

Samantha watched as Jake and Steve pulled him out of the room. He was still breathing, albeit slowly. It became very clear to her that Jack had taken the needle away and given the doctor a full shot of painkillers. Jack had never had her appetite for substances, she'd never even seen him drink.....to realize he was being drugged must have infuriated him, regardless if the doctor was trying to help him.

When they were gone Jack shuffled to the door and locked it. Every movement he made looked painful. She was sure he'd have a permanent limp from the shot he'd taken to his leg. Her eyes went to the wound in his side. It was rudely sewn together, garish against his pallid skin. The pain would have been enough to send most people to their knees but he seemed oblivious to it.

_He can handle a lot of pain. You know that firsthand. And anyway, he likes it._

Knowing that didn't dampen her concern and it must have shown on her face because he laughed and slouched back to her. He tossed the gun and scalpel to the floor and grinned.

"You look worried Sam."

"I am," she admitted. "You're still not well. You need to eat, want me to send one of the guys out for food?"

His tongue crept between his lips, gliding across the scars. He seemed about to say something, then sat heavily on the bed, finally conceding to the pain.

"Maybe later. I'm fine by the way. Never been better." He motioned grandly about the room. "Like the house?"

"Yeah. It's...great."

"It's yours," he mumbled, breaking eye contact with her to stare into a far corner.

"Wow...thank you."

"Uh-huh." He sounded embarrassed.

"Hey, are you sure you're not hungry? Because if you are........"

"I told ya....later," he said impatiently, his gaze snapping back to her. "Now...lie down next to me."

"Jack as much as I'd enjoy that I don't think it's a good idea. Your stitches."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not talking about _that_. I'm talking about you laying next to me. That's all."

* * *

She'd thought he'd ask about Dominic. Instead he laid silently next to her. Their bodies did not touch, he didn't even look at her.

_He'll ask. Just wait. He's just drawing it out._

The funny thing was, he didn't seem to be in the least bit upset about being shot twice and almost dying. As soon as she'd gotten in bed with him he'd relaxed, as much as he was able to anyway.

"I knew you wouldn't bail on me." he said, breaking the silence.

"Then why were you so upset?"

"Because," he turned his head to look at her. "You weren't there. Not to mention I didn't really, uh, appreciate that doctor shooting me up with his drugs."

"He was just trying to make things easier for you."

Jack's hand crept up her arm, to the inside of her elbow. His thumb made little circles over the needle marks there.

"Looks like he made things easier for you, hm?"

She pulled her arm away. "I asked him for it. What was he going to do, tell me no?"

"I don't ask much of you Sam. I really don't. And I don't think I tell you what to do....not too much anyway. But now I'm gonna. Don't do it anymore. Not like that. You recall what happened to your old man? Huh? Keep hitting the needle and that'll be you. I don't want that. So stop it."

For a second she almost told him she'd stop when he quit blowing things up and murdering people. Then she realized he was telling her this not out of a desire to control her but out of concern.

_Concern_. The word didn't belong in conjunction with Jack....but there it was.

_You were gonna stop anyway. Just go back to eating pills. Much safer and it'll keep him off your back._

"Okay," she said. "I'll stop. I was going to anyway."

He didn't look convinced but changed the subject.

"This is your place. Not mine. _Yours_. Everything's taken care of, you're out of Gotham. Your name's not on anything. Not your real one anyway."

"Whoa, wait...I've got a fake identity now?"

"Just for the, um, technical things. Anyway, as I was saying....no one's gonna bother you. My only condition is you let me...uh....let me come here when I'm not in Gotham. You didn't like staying in the places I go to so I fixed it for ya." His voice faltered and he looked annoyed with himself.

_Holy shit._

"Of course you can come here," she told him softly. "I want you to."

"Happy now?" he growled.

"I was already happy when I saw you up....but yeah I'm really....floored."

"I told ya I'd make it better. And despite what they may say I am a man of my word. Sometimes."

He moved close to her and shut his eyes. Samantha stared at him. And suddenly it dawned on her.

Dominic never really mattered to Jack, except for perhaps a bit of jealousy. In hindsight she doubted if Jack even cared if Dominic remembered his name. He'd started this sequence of events a long time ago, then stood back to see what would happen, not caring if it might blow up in his face, not caring if it might cost him his own life. It had begun the night Dr. Peloni had shot Dominic and snowballed into something bigger. Why? She supposed if she had to ask then she was missing the point. No, she decided, she didn't have to ask why. She understood. There was no cause, no grand statement. Nothing but anarchy. None of it had to make sense.

_Self destructive curiosity. The need to play with us all. Gordon, the Batman, Dominic, Dr. Peloni, Zsasz, Montoya, like puppets on strings. And me of course. Even I wasn't exempt. Hell, he made me the center of it.  
_

She couldn't be angry about it. It was his nature to cause chaos. Besides, he was alive and that was the most important thing._  
_

"Did it all turn out like you thought it would?" she asked him.

"Partially. There were a few surprises along the way. You know Sam, if the cop had come at you with the gun I would have killed him." He stretched his arms lazily. "But I knew he wouldn't hurt you. Couldn't bring himself to. He had a thing for ya."

She made no comment and hoped he'd get off the subject of Dominic.

"Take your clothes off."

"What?"

He smacked his lips impatiently, eyes raking over her like hot coals. "Your clothes. Take them off. I want you."

The words sent a charge through her but she stubbornly shook her head. "No. You'll tear your stitches."

"Fuck 'em," he growled. "I'll sew them back."

Deciding that she couldn't argue with his logic she took her clothes off.


	70. Serenity

**A/N: **So today is a weird day. April 4. Two events. One: the 1 year anniversary of a death. The other: a birthday. Strange.

Probably just one more chapter left after this one. Thanks to my readers and reviewers. Anytime you want to chat just PM me or look me up on Y Messenger: oc1971jn.

**CHAPTER SEVENTY**

_Serenity_

Samantha stared at the picture in the newspaper. It was her old mugshot, from twelve years ago when she'd gotten picked up for carrying drugs. She'd done her probation and the charge had been expunged from her record. She'd all but forgotten about the incident and the picture. Obviously Gordon hadn't.

"Don't feel too bad, you're number eight out of ten." Jack said from behind her. "Can you guess who's number one?"

She ignored him, eyes roving over the text accompanying the mugshot.

---

**GOTHAM CITY'S MOST WANTED FUGITIVES UPDATE**

**SAMANTHA RENEE DOUGALL**

Wanted for Kidnapping; Murder; Terroristic Threats; Harboring and Aiding a Fugitive

Aliases: None

**DESCRIPTION:**

**DOB**: July 18, 1975

**Hair**: Dark Blond/Brown

**HEIGHT**:5'10

**EYES**: Green

**WEIGHT**: 130 pounds

**SEX**: Female

**RACE**: White

**NATIONALITY**: American

**SCARS/TATTOOS/IDENTIFYING MARKS**: Human bite mark scars on neck and shoulders. Also an old bullet wound scar on lower left leg.

**REMARKS**: Dougall is known to abuse opiates and is likely to seek them out. She has been described as "quiet" "under the radar" and "laid back". Is left handed and a smoker. Enjoys vintage cars and reading. She is also thought to possess sadomasochistic tendencies. Since the death of her father Dougall has no known ties to other states or countries. Is proficient with firearms and may be in the possession of a Glock 9mm and a .357 handgun.

**CAUTION!**

Dougall is believed to be traveling with Gotham City's #1 most wanted criminal; "The Joker". Because of this she has been added to Gotham's Most Wanted list. She is considered **armed and extremely** **dangerous.** If you see her or "The Joker" **do not approach** under **any** circumstances and **immediately** contact your local law enforcement agency.

---

"I'll be damned," Samantha muttered. "They actually did it. They put me on the list. Got a lot of info on me too."

"You killed a cop," Jack laughed. "And not just any cop, the Commissioner's nephew. What'd you think was gonna happen?"

She remained silent. Although she and Jack had never discussed what had happened to Dominic his "death" had been all over the television and papers. Jack had taken the news with a satisfied smirk. At first no suspects had been named in Dom's shooting, or in the death Marty. Until today.

Samantha read the article that went along with her new status as Gotham's Most Wanted and blinked. She was being blamed for all of it. Dom's fake death, the executions of the narcs and Marty. Four people and she'd only actually killed one of them.

_Well, you did tell Gordon you killed those guys. He had to pin Dominic on you too, otherwise people would wonder. Had to make it look convincing. You told him to do it. You took the blame for the guys Dom offed._

She smiled. In her estimation it was the most unselfish thing she'd done in years....and possibly the last.

Dropping the paper on the couch she turned to Jack. He was roaming the house restlessly, ready to leave as soon as darkness fell. The shooting had occurred two weeks ago and although he was gaunt and walked with a limp he seemed to have recovered nicely. Tonight he had "business" in Gotham and she could only imagine what it entailed.

_And it doesn't matter, does it? Doesn't matter what he does. Not anymore._

"You worried?" he asked, not looking at her. "About being on the list? 'Cause if you are.....don't. _If_ they ever got you they wouldn't keep you long." He glanced over at her with a malicious grin. "Things might happen, you know?"

"I know," she returned the grin. "And I'm not worried."

Samantha knew they'd catch up with her eventually. She'd go outside one night to see the Bat's silhouette looming over her or a SWAT team awaiting her. She also knew Hell would follow. Despite his capriciousness Jack would never stand to have her imprisoned. Not unless he was the one doing it.

"That's right," Jack said. "I told you a long long time ago I'd always be back, whether you liked it or not." His voice lowered an octave. "And I always have, hm? Always _will_."

"I know." she repeated softly.

She studied him, the object of her love and near-hate for nearly ten years. He was magnificent, death personified. She could go her entire life trying to convince herself she didn't want him and he could go his trying to own her, each knowing they'd never quite succeed. They'd been linked together for so long, neither of them understanding the bond but unable to break away. He went his way and she went hers, until they found each other again to continue their neverending circle. Over and over again. It would always be this way, until one or both of them was dead.

She was fine with that. She loved him, as much as she was able, and he felt _something_ for her, as much as he was able. And it was enough.

She thought of Gordon alone at his desk, staring at pictures of Barbara and his kids. Did he hate her now? Did he despair of ever catching the Joker?

Bruce Wayne in his penthouse. Did he stay awake at night, wondering if the Joker would reveal his secret identity to Gotham? Was his rage as boundless as Jack's? She was willing to bet it was.

Dominic....hopefully far away from Gotham and rebuilding his life. A life _she'd_ given him and one she hoped he wouldn't squander.

_An even trade._

An ache rose within her chest and she held her breath until it went away.

Jack moved close to her, his painted face ghoulish in the room's dim light.

"You know Sam....." he began. "I've noticed you're smiling a lot more. So, uh, does that mean I did a good job? With _this_?" He gestured around the room broadly.

"Yeah Jack. You did good," she answered, amused. He was acerbic, barbarous, and yet so weirdly childlike at times. "I like it here."

He licked his lips nervously, eyes flitting and glinting amidst the black kohl. For a moment he seemed as if he were about to speak. The moment passed and he was out the door, Jake and Steve following at a respectful distance behind him.

Smiling serenely, she watched him leave.

* * *

**A/N: **Happy Birthday Heath. :(


	71. End

**CHAPTER SEVENTY ONE**

_End_

Gordon leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes. Sleep beckoned him, at the very least a catnap, but he resisted its call. In a few hours maybe. Besides, it felt disrespectful, napping in the same room where his predecessor, Commissioner Loeb, had died.

He removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes vigorously.

_'Any minute now my phone will ring,'_ he thought. _'And it'll be bad. It's always bad lately.'_

He grimaced at his own pessimism. No, it wasn't always bad, he corrected himself. Dominic was alive. Granted, he was under an assumed name in another state and was seeing a therapist....but he was alive. He supposed he could thank Samantha for that. Despite what she'd done she had saved him when she could have just as easily killed him or let the Joker do it.

_'And look how you repaid her, you pinned a murder on her she didn't even commit. You went public and accused her of killing the man she saved.'_

Guilt flooded him and he tried to shrug it off. After all, she'd killed the other men, the ones who'd told Dominic about the Joker's whereabouts and the thug who'd been found with Dom. Hell, she'd admitted it to him on the phone. Not to mention she'd told him to let everyone believe she'd killed Dominic and threatened his family if he didn't do as she said.

Given her connections he hadn't been eager to test her.

Then he'd received a letter of unknown origin. No fingerprints, no return address. Upon opening it he'd seen the following sentence in tiny, neat print:

_We shall meet in the place where there is no darkness._

That was all. Nothing else. He knew Samantha had sent it. No proof but he _knew_. What did it mean? He couldn't say, even though he had puzzled over it many times. The sentence was vaguely familiar yet he couldn't quite place it.

She was lost to him now. She'd chosen her side and walked away. He supposed the next time he saw her, if he ever did, she would be in handcuffs or dead from either the Joker's hand or from the bullets of a GPD officer. He hoped not. Deep in his heart he didn't think she was evil, not like the Joker. Maybe she could be redeemed one day.

With a sigh he turned his thoughts back to Dominic. His nephew's mental state hadn't improved. Whatever had happened to him when he'd been kidnapped had affected him terribly but he wouldn't talk to anyone about it. Gordon had a feeling he was holding back, hiding things.

And something told him Dominic would never tell.

The phone rang, the sound strident in the silent room. It would be bad. It always was. Straightening up in his seat, Gordon put his glasses on and stared at it dully. Finally, mumbling a curse under his breath, he answered it.

* * *

Bruce stood on the rooftop of an office building, keen eyes scanning the city. Below him Crime Alley glowed with flames and bodies bearing both burns and gunshot wounds littered the street. This was the same place his parents had been gunned down so many years before and part of him was glad to see it in this state. It was nothing but a repository of pain and misery, a haven for the worst kind of criminals. He immediately corrected himself though. The man who'd killed his parents was also dead. The victims of this had nothing to do with that long ago act.

Police cars, fire trucks and ambulances swarmed the area. No one had taken responsibility yet but he could guess who had done it. He was sure that soon the Joker would be on GCN gloating and taunting. He'd long since stopped worrying about the madman giving away his true identity, he was insane, a murderer and terrorist. No one would believe him.

Besides, he suspected the clown enjoyed being one of the few that knew and would guard the secret jealously. Leverage.

In the past two months Gotham's gutters had run red with the blood of both criminals and law abiding citizens. The Joker was responsible for a good deal of it but he wasn't the only one. Others had come forward, emboldened by the chaos the clown had caused. One of the worst was a gang leader who wore a black mask and was ruthlessly cutting out the competition in a bid to rule Gotham's underworld. And there were others, waiting in the shadows. They would never go away, attracted and challenged by Batman.

There would always be more. Gotham would always need him. He'd finally reconciled himself to that.

Bruce nodded to himself and dropped off the side of the building. The wind caught him and he was buoyed away into the night.

* * *

_

* * *

__Epilogue_

_Things were much better nowadays._

_She had a home now. Not a filthy hideout by the docks, a real home. And it was _hers_. Jake stayed with her - at her urging - but more as a helping hand in case anything happened. She did as she pleased, she called the shots._

_She'd earned it._

_Jack was there often but he never brought his goons or business into the house. Something within their relationship had shifted. He'd given her freedom, the thing she'd wanted most. She'd given him......_

_Samantha frowned and looked over at Jack. What _had_ she given him? Her life? Her sanity? _

_No..... she'd given him love. Yes, that was it. Love for someone who'd only known hate and disgust._

_He might have been a monster, she reflected, but he was human too. At the core he was still the same man who used to lay his head on her chest and fall asleep all those years ago._

_Earlier that night she'd told him she didn't care what he did to Gotham. What he'd done to Crime Alley made no difference to her. All that mattered was _this_. It wouldn't last forever and she wanted to enjoy it before it all ended. _

_She traced the shallow cuts on his chest that she'd inflicted, then touched the marks he'd left on her.  
_

_Jack murmured something in his sleep and his hand crept out to grasp her arm. She put her hand over his and he sighed, the sound strangely mournful._

_ 'Lying here next to a monster on bloodstained sheets and all I can feel is.....happy.' she thought and smiled to herself.  
_

_She shut her eyes and fell asleep.  
_

* * *

**A/N: **So that's it. This really turned into a ginormous story. 71 chapters and nearly 7 months. That's crazy. Anyway, a big thanks to my readers and reviewers. I really do love you guys and I appreciate your kind words. Send me a PM, IM or email anytime. I like to chat. I'm also fishing for new story ideas if anyone wants to talk that over too.

The quote in Sam's note to Gordon is from the book "1984" by George Orwell.

And because I thought it would be amusing I made a list of Canon/OC characters and their current whereabouts. This story had a boatload of people in it compared to my others so it was fun to see if I could remember everybody. Still not sure if I got 'em all.

**Canon Characters:  
**

Jack/Joker – At large.

Bruce Wayne/Batman – Still doing his thing.

Jim Gordon – Still doing his thing, bless his heart.

Dr. Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow – Paper gown time in Arkham Asylum.

Waylon Jones/Killer Croc – Paper gown time in Arkham Asylum. Will probably get his own story sometime.

Detective Nash – Dirt napping. Killed by Jack/Joker.

Victor Zsasz – Dirt napping. Killed by Jack/Joker.

Detective Renee Montoya – Dirt napping. Killed by Jack/Joker.

Harleen Quinzel - ?

**Original Characters:  
**

Samantha - Dysfunctionally ever after and at large.

Dominic Aprile – Getting therapy in an undisclosed location.

Eric Cook – Sam's sellout ex-boyfriend. Dirt napping. Killed by Jack/Joker.

Dr. Mitchell Peloni – Former Arkham doctor. Dirt napping. Killed by Sam.

Glen – Misguided henchman. Dirt napping. Killed by Alex. His head is currently MIA.

Alex – Sam's dog. Eating Alpo in that big kennel in the sky. Died from injuries suffered after being shot by Glen and attacked by another dog.

Ben – Sam's dad. Dirt napping. Killed by himself.

Marty - Uppity thug. Dirt napping. Killed by Sam.

The Doctor – Treated Jack after he got shot by Dom and hooked Sam up with drugs. Unknown if he's dead or alive.

Jake - Gay henchman/Sam's bodyguard. Poor bastard.

David Bennett – Necrophiliac cop from "No Stranger". Will probably get his own story one day. Dirt napping. Killed by Jack/Joker.

Brian – Sam's best friend/drug buddy in "No Stranger". Dirt napping. Killed by ?

A special mention also goes out to the small army of random thugs who have been killed throughout both stories.

Official body count for "Unknown Origin" = 25 people. 2 dogs. Joker gets the top score. Honorable mentions go out to Killer Croc, Dominic and Samantha. Yeah, I play too many video games.


End file.
